Kissed By Fire
by TheHedgeRider
Summary: A rightful heir to the throne and a rebel king with a curse. Can what fate has joined together save their land and survive their marriage? Arranged marriage fic. Klonnie
1. For The Realm

_**A/N: So I've hit a wee bit of a block while working on one of the major scenes in my next update for Time Served. When that happens, I tend to work on other things until I feel ready to come back to it with a clear head. But I think I've now figured out how to work that scene so the update should be coming along fairly soon. Apologies for any spelling or grammar errors.**_

 **For the Realm**

 _In the beginning, before the dawn of man, there were the gods; and in their midst stood one of their most powerful: Antioch. He was petty and foul, seeking pleasure in the ruination of the firmament in which they dwelled. The art of creation would never truly be undertaken while such wanton destruction went unchecked._

 _Seeing no other course, the gods joined forces and with their combined might, they vanquished Antioch, sentencing him to becoming part of the earth they would create; his body the very land upon which one of the world's greatest dynasties would rule one day. And upon that land they created the First Ones and from them, mankind._

 _But the land proved to be as harsh and heartless as its namesake and all life suffered. Chaos reigned until the gods chose a young girl named Amara to become the heart that Antioch lacked. They blessed their priesthood with the knowledge and tool to create a bond between Amara and Antioch; one that allowed the true nature of the girl to augment the nature of the god._

 _As she was, so would the land be._

 _From this bond a covenant was formed. Only those bearing Amara's likeness would assume the role of Blessed Keeper. From her line the shadows of Amara were born; each becoming the Blessed Keeper; each playing a role in defining the nature of both the land and its people._

 _But after nearly one thousand years, the Age of the Shadow Selves was finally nearing its end._

The pungent scent of incense stung her eyes and made them water. Its heavy smoke billowed around her; enveloping her and offering nothing save discomfort and dread.

The priests intoned their spells as they shuffled about, beseeching the gods for what at this point could only be considered a miracle; the royal physician having already exhausted the length and breadth of his knowledge and coming up empty.

Elena Fleming, Queen and Blessed Keeper of Antioch...was barren.

The queen's thoughts drifted as the priests continued their work. Five years ago, she returned to this, her ancestral home and supplanted her aunt Katherine as both Queen and Keeper while avenging herself for her kinswoman's treachery.

Upon learning that an infant Elena would grow to become her successor, Katherine raged-driven mad by a lust for power and an addiction to the dark magics she'd used to extend her life—and convinced herself that only she would ever be fit to rule.

She was so convinced that she conspired to murder every member of House Fleming.

It was Lord Alaric Saltzman, a trusted friend of Elena's parents, who managed to spirit the infant away; fleeing Antioch for unknown lands to the East. There he raised her in the manner that befit her station; instilling in her the desire to avenge her family and take back the throne that was her birthright.

When Elena came of age, she returned to Antioch with an army of 50,000 at her back and eventually mounted Katherine's head on a spike.

But the realm she inherited was broken. The lords of the North, East and West had been in open rebellion against Katherine's tyranny and showed no sign of interest in bending the knee to a newly installed queen. It had taken two years and even more bloodshed before the lords of the East and West agreed to terms and pledged their fealty to their Southern queen.

The North not only remained uninterested, they'd chosen to harken back to the time before Amara and named Niklaus Mikaelson, the heir to their ancient line as King.

Niklaus Mikaelson, the so-called Wolf King.

Niklaus Mikaelson, the savage who'd sent one of her most trusted emissaries of peace back to her as nothing more than a head in a basket.

They crowned that heathen despite the fact that he was a bastard born of a dalliance between Lord Mikael Mikaelson and some Wildling chieftain who'd been afflicted with the Wolf's curse. She died in childbirth, leaving her son to inherit her affliction.

The boy grew to live a life of no consequence and would have remained so were it not for Mikael's decision to lead the lords of the North in an open rebellion against Katherine's madness; a decision that would not only cost him his life, but that of Finn, his eldest son and heir. Governance of the North would have fallen to his second eldest, Elijah had the young man not already committed himself to the priesthood. With one daughter who openly refused position, another bound to the Faith and a youngest son still a boy and sickly, the duty fell to the young wolf to bear the standard of House Mikaelson.

The Wolf King managed to rally not only the greater and lesser houses of the region, but he also rallied a number of the Wildling clans through their loyalty to his mother's memory. And with the whole of the North at his back he continued his father's campaign, withstanding the Mad Queen's bloodiest efforts to bring the region to heel and cementing himself as a figure of open defiance.

The high priest moved towards her and Elena held out her hand in response. She wrinkled her nose in discomfort as the blade the priest held sliced across her palm and her blood flowed into a small wooden bowl.

Like Katherine before her, Elena forces battered themselves against a wall of knights, soldiers and wildings to no avail. The North was vast and wild and no Southern army could withstand the harshness of the region for an extended period of time. The Wolf King seemed fully prepared to hold them off indefinitely.

But in her role as the Blessed Keeper, Elena simply could not allow such a bitter division of the realm to continue indefinitely. She was linked to the land and as such felt every pain that was visited upon it as keenly as if it were her own. The land required peace and she would provide it in whatever way she could.

Which brought her to her current predicament.

Mikaelson had made it abundantly clear that the North would never again submit to Southern rule and had the means to maintain that position. However, in the words of Alaric...there was more than one way to breach a castle.

Arranged marriages to end conflict were not uncommon and a queen was an offer no one would refuse. But the truth of the matter is that while an arranged marriage brought the promise of peace, only the fruit of such a union can actually guarantee it.

Which made her barrenness a bit of a problem.

"Majesty," the high priest called, gaining her attention. "The portents are unchanged. The path before you is set. The gods will brook no argument."

"They won't?" she asked dryly. "Then why don't they come down here and tend to this mess themselves? I could really use the rest at this point."

The elder man opened his mouth to speak only to be waved off.

Elena pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed, already bracing herself for the difficult conversations that would take place over the next several weeks. One in particular being the most difficult of all.

"Send word to Mikaelson," she ordered, turning to her secretary. "Tell him I demand an audience."

 **BKBKBKBKB**

Over the course of his life he'd visited the South only a handful of times and remained as unimpressed now as he'd been then.

King Niklaus Mikaelson rode through the city gates flanked by an accompaniment of knights bearing a banner of truce. Mystic Falls, the capital city of Antioch, had changed very little since he'd been there last. Networks of cobblestoned streets where the masses teemed about like ants. The sights and sounds irritated his heightened senses as the riot of scents assailed him.

Whores draped themselves from balconies; their wares fully on display as they beckoned to the terrors of the North suddenly in their midst. City guardsmen eyed them warily as they made their way undeterred to Whitmore, the great castle of House Fleming.

Once they arrived, they were led into the throne room—an expansive space adorned with colorful depictions of great Fleming victories over the centuries. Atop a dais sat Elena on her questionably ornate throne.

It was common knowledge that Amara had been a great beauty and by extension the shadow selves that followed her. But seeing Elena now and knowing that the same face had sat upon that throne for a thousand years made such beauty redundant. Simply another rose on a bush filled with them.

It didn't help that a queen bearing that very same face was responsible for the deaths of both his father and one of his brothers along with countless others.

 _This had better be good_.

They exchanged their pleasantries stiffly and made their vows before gods and men that no blood would be shed for the duration of their conference. The Fleming queen then invited him to retreat with her to an antechamber to speak privately.

"Something tells me you won't be offering terms for your surrender," Klaus said as he took a seat at the large table that had been prepared for them.

"Ha!" Elena scoffed. "No Fleming has ever surrendered and I'm certainly not about to start now." She reached for a carafe of wine and began to fill two goblets.

"If not surrender, then what do you propose?"

"An arrangement," Elena replied, taking a sip from one before offering the other to him.

The Wolf King's eyes narrowed as he accepted the goblet. "What kind of arrangement?"

"The marital kind," Elena said simply.

He was silent for a moment before laughter erupted from his chest and shook his shoulders.

"My brother Elijah said that might be your thinking when we received your message. I told him all that incense from those bloody rituals had finally addled his mind."

"Is such a thing so far from the realm of reason for you, Mikaelson?" Elena asked.

"Quite frankly…yes."

"Why?" Elena asked, keeping her tone mild.

"Because I have no need of a Southern queen," Klaus replied. Common sense dictated that he would need to make a proper match and begin their work of making heirs. But after having no choice but to return from the sea to avenge his father and brother and after having no choice but to accept the mantle of king that had been placed upon his bastard shoulders, he did not want the choice as who would bear his name and his children to be made to due to outside circumstance.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Elena smirked.

"Then let me put a finer point on it then," Klaus said, leaning forward. " _I don't want you for my queen, Elena_."

Elena saluted with her goblet and a smirk. "That makes two of us," she snorted, drinking deeply before reclining in her chair.

"I'm going to tell you something that only a handful of people know at the moment,"" she declared finaly, trailing the rim of the goblet with a lone finger.

"I'm all ears," he replied and reached for a bowl of figs that had been set out for them. If nothing else, Southern produce was unmatched.

"I will be the last shadow of Amara.".

Klaus chewed slowly, the furrow in his brow deepening at the implication of Elena's statement.

"How is this possible?" He asked suspiciously. Something that outrageous and unheard of must be part of some gambit the Southern queen intended.

 _But if it wasn't…_

"You're relatively intelligent, Mikaelson," Elena sighed. "I'm sure you can figure it out if you give it your best effort."

Klaus' eyes narrowed at the dig, but understanding came swiftly nonetheless. It appeared the gods had finally grown tired of the unending saga of House Fleming. Katherine had all but succeeded in slaughtering every avenue from which an heir could ascend the throne and now Elena, the sole survivor of Katherine's efforts was unable to produce one of her own.

It was justice, if he was being honest. For countless years, the fate of their people rest on the whims of one face and if history were to judge, the Shadows of Amara had proven to be a mixed bag of the gracious and the grotesque. The idea that there would be no more would feel oddly liberating were it not for the gaping maw of dread that accompanied it.

"What does this mean for Antioch?" He asked finally.

Elena countered his question with her own, "How versed are you in the Mysteries?"

"I admit that I slept through a significant portion of my education," Klaus confessed wryly.

"I'm not surprised." Elena muttered, pouring herself another drink.

"Long story, short," she continued. "If I die and there's no Keeper to replace me, Antioch will fall. The land will return to the chaos that reigned before Amara and the people will suffer for it. _All of them_. Until the end of days.

While he was not as versed in the Mysteries as his brother Elijah, he did have a vague knowledge of the time before Amara:

 _The Doom of Antioch it was called._

A time when the creatures of the Darkness roamed free and preyed upon mankind. The earth shook and cracked, giving way to even fouler beings that rose to the surface. The seasons attacked with a vengeance and lingered for years at a time while the seas turned treacherous and offered no means of escape.

 _Hell on earth._

"And you think our marriage can prevent that?" Klaus asked suspiciously.

"Ha! No," Elena scoffed. "A marriage between you and I would be almost as horrendous as a second Doom.

"Then why am I here?" Klaus demanded, his patience wearing thin.

"Because the gods have shown my priests a way forward," Elena answered. "And while I will bear no issue, I have every intention of naming an heir. It is for her that I wish to arrange a marriage."

 **#**

Bonnie sat upon a stone bench in Elena's private garden; a book laying open on her lap. The massive tome was on loan from the Chief Preceptor and provided a detailed analysis of one of the five sciences: Blood. While she was in no position to become a preceptor herself, she'd always been fascinated by the wealth of knowledge at their disposal and managed to persuade Chief Atticus to provide instruction whenever his duties permitted.

She shut her eyes tightly before opening them again; returning her attention to the words on the page. Normally she'd be deeply engrossed in the teachings of Elian the Younger, but today her mind could only wander towards Elena and the conversation taking place between her and Niklaus Mikaelson.

The rightful queen of Antioch meant to marry the northern brute in a final attempt to bring peace to a land that bore the wounds left by years of conflict.

It was unfortunate, really. Her dearest friend, through a matter of obligation was willing to offer herself to little better than a savage for the sake of her kingdom. As one of Elena's chief advisors, she should have been inside with her as the two set terms for their marriage, but the queen had insisted on overseeing the parlay herself. It made sense Bonnie supposed. Their possible marriage may be political in nature, but the joining of two people in such a way was most certainly a personal matter.

"Oh look...Bonnie's reading a book that's bigger than she is...must be a day like any other day," she heard Elena say as the queen strolled up to her.

"Knowledge is power, Elena. You know this," Bonnie replied setting the book aside.

"Power is power," Elena countered, coming to sit beside to her. "Knowledge only guides the way in which one wields it."

"Is he still here?" Bonnie asked.

"No," Elena sighed. "I offered him the hospitality of the castle but I'm afraid he has no fondness for our Southern climate. He much preferred to begin to journey home and seek out lodgings along the way. I suspect it had more to do with not fully trusting our tentative peace enough to sleep under so recent an enemy's roof."

"But the deal has been struck?" Bonnie gently pressed.

"Yes, it has," Elena replied softly.

"I know you do this for the greater good," Bonnie said, throwing an arm around her friend's shoulders. "But this is something I never would have wished for you. Marriages should be for love, not duty. And to be married to one such as Mikaelson...was he terrible?"

"Remarkably, no," Elena confessed. "A bit churlish perhaps, but overall he was receptive to my proposal."

"The terms?" Bonnie asked, curiously as to what all Elena offered to sway him.

"The court will return to the North where it had been in the days of old," Elena explained. "A lord of the North will be selected to come here and govern the southern region and the royal wedding will take place in a month."

Bonnie nodded, "Well then...I suppose the seamstresses are going to be working day and night to have your wedding finery completed. I don't envy them."

Elena reached for her friend's hands and held them tightly.

"Bonnie, I-" she began before she sighed in exasperation. "I've been trying to figure out how to explain this to you for weeks and now that it can wait no longer, I don't know what to say."

"Elena, what is it?" Bonnie's brow furrowed, concern filling every word. "You know you can tell me anything."

"The seamstresses won't be working on my wedding finery, Bonnie," she explained. "They'll be working on yours."

"What on earth are you talking about?" Bonnie asked laughing at the absurdity.

"The marriage agreement isn't between Mikaelson and I," Elena answered. "It is between Mikaelson and my heir... _you_."

"Elena that doesn't even make sense; _I'm not your heir_ ," she scoffed, her eyes wide as she continued to wait for the punchline to this painfully unfunny jest. _This had to be a jest_.

"No…but you will be. The royal decree is being drawn up as we speak. I need but sign it to make it so," Elena explained glumly.

A chill began to settle within Bonnie's bones, one that Elena's forlorn countenance only intensified.

"What have you done, Elena?" She whispered, pulling her hands away.

"What I had to do," Elena answered firmly. "There's no point to me marrying him, Bonnie. No heirs would come from our union. I've been poked and prodded by the Preceptor for months; the priests have conjured every magic at their disposal and yet the results are the same: no life will ever quicken in my belly. A marriage between the Wolf King and I is pointless without heirs."

"So, you decided to offer me up as a brood mare instead?!" Bonnie lunged to her feet; her blood pounding in her ears. _This couldn't be right_. Elena had been her friend, her confidant and champion since they were five years old. She couldn't possibly be doing this now.

"Bonnie, no! I'm making you queen. I'm leaving all of this to you. Even the gods know you'll do better with it than I ever did."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Bonnie snapped.

"It means that while the priests don't see a future for Antioch through me, they do see one through you. The gods have chosen you to continue the covenant between the land and the people."

Bonnie's mouth dropped open.

"The priests say that the reason it must be you hasn't been revealed to them," Elena continued. "But I have an inkling that I know why and so do you, Bonnie."

The chill in her bones grew, causing her blood run cold with dread.

"You didn't say anything…did you?" She whispered, unsure if she could endure the betrayal of having Elena divulge the greatest secret between them.

"No! And I never would," Elena cried. "And neither would the gods it seems. But it doesn't change the fact that what you are sets you apart from everyone. You can't possibly believe that it was never going to be a factor in your life." Her eyes followed her friend as she turned away.

"Take it from someone who was compelled to duty for no other reason than having the same face as a woman long dead," Elena continued. "The thing that makes you special, is also the thing that will be called upon most often. At least this way you avoid a fate you have every right to fear."

 _The thing that made her special._ They'd discovered it not long after Bonnie's eleventh name day when a nightmare caused her bedlinens to burst in flames. Elena had rushed to her room and helped hide the damage but that night revealed to them both the truth of things:

Bonnie was a _witch_.

Witches were a rarity in this day and age. There hadn't been a witch born in Antioch in several hundred years and they were becoming even scarcer throughout the world. Priests of the faith along with others were able to learn lower forms of magic, but a witch was born with actual magic flowing through their veins. The things that beings such as Bonnie were capable of had been known to boggle the mind.

If Lord Saltzman had discovered Bonnie's secret, he would have sold her to the highest bidder.

And a witch was worth a king's ransom.

Because of her youth, whomever purchased her would have begun grooming her to do their bidding by whatever means necessary. She would have become the bird in a gilded cage, compelled to sing sweetly whenever a demand was made.

They kept Bonnie's secret between them even as they discreetly sought out ways for her to learn as much as she could learn about her gifts without detection.

"A witch alone is a hunted creature, Bonnie. But a witch who is not only queen but Keeper of Antioch _and_ bound by marriage to the dreaded Wolf King in the North…there is no greater safety that can be offered to you and in exchange all you're being asked to do is rule."

"That is not all I'm being asked to do, Elena," Bonnie snapped. "I'm also being asked to be the dreaded Wolf King's wife and bear his children, am I not? What do we know of him aside for his penchant for blood and carnage?"

"We know that when presented with the peril we're all in, he put aside his disdain for an alliance and has agreed to terms for the sake of the realm."

Elena turned Bonnie towards her and grasped her shoulders, her eyes pleading to be understood.

"I know this is unfair," she said. "I know this isn't what you wanted for yourself. But as your queen I must charge you with this and as your friend I beg you to accept. This land and its people need you. Please say yes, Bonnie."

Green eyes met brown and Bonnie cursed under her breath. The love she bore her friend had always made her unwilling to deny her…

… _but marrying Niklaus Mikaelson?_

 **BKBKBKBK**

"Has anyone checked the Mikaelson crypt lately?"

"Whatever for, Stefan?" Klaus murmured absently, looking up from the letters on his desk.

"You're about to become king of all of Antioch. Surely Mikael has spun out of his grave by now," Stefan smirked.

"Now that you mention it, I do recall hearing a faint drilling sound upon my return from Mystic Falls," Klaus replied, leaning back in his chair. "How go the preparations?"

"Nearly complete given the taskmaster your sister has become."

" _Become_?" Klaus scoffed. "She's been that way since we were children and you know it."

"I'm trying to ignore that fact given that you're marrying me to her," Stefan explained, the warmth in his voice betraying his words. The youngest lord of House Salvatore was to marry Lady Rebekah Mikaelson three months from now and while he somewhat mourned the end of his bachelorhood, his affection for Rebekah began the day she nearly cracked open his skull with a bowl of mutton as punishment for cutting off one of her braids when she was ten.

"We've received word," Stefan said finally, "Elena's court has been sighted. Your bride will arrive by nightfall."

"Excellent," Klaus murmured, returning his attention to the letter. "The sooner we have done with this the better."

"You aren't the least bit excited?" Stefan teased.

"Excited to be marrying a total stranger? _Hardly_. The only positive is that I won't be marrying Elena." As wary as the his people were of the notion of a foreign queen, swearing allegiance to one of Amara's bloody shadow selves was simply out of the question. The wounds inflicted by Elena's predecessor ran too deep to suffer her kinswoman.

His betrothed may now bear the Fleming name, but she bore a great deal less of the baggage that came with it.

"What do you know of her?" Stefan continued to press.

"Sold into slavery as a child, purchased by Lord Saltzman to be Elena's companion and freed by Elena several years ago. The south credits her with rallying the people behind Elena after Katherine's death." If the stories were true, Elena's most trusted advisor had managed to endear herself not only to the people of Mystic Falls but to the lords to the east and west of the great city.

"Let us hope that she can be equally as persuasive here," Stefan mused. The greater houses would abide out of loyalty to the Mikaelsons but accepting this new bride would be easier said than done.

" _Are you at least curious about her_?" Stefan asked.

"If I must have a Southern queen, then all I require is that she be at most a mildly irritating bed warmer and bear my children; the rest will take care of itself."

"Spoken like a king," a new voice replied.

"Don't encourage him, Damon," Stefan chided as his older brother entered and joined them. "Indifference is probably not the best position to take in marriage or in political alliances."

"Perhaps, but how can he be anything but indifferent when both the marriage and the alliance are only necessary because Elena Fleming can't produce an heir? In essence, our king is being asked to be the solution to a Fleming problem."

"But he isn't the only one being asked," Stefan pointed out. "His betrothed is also part of the solution. As far as their current predicament, our king and future queen have more in common than not and it would be in both of their best interests to build on that commonality for the sake of the realm."

"Be that as it may," Damon continued, dismissing his brother's comment with a wave. "I have nothing but sympathy for the king's unfortunate, yet wholly selfless circumstance."

"It pleases me to hear you say that, Damon...given that you'll be experiencing your own unfortunate yet wholly selfless circumstance," Klaus smirked, watching as the elder Salvatore's brow furrowed in confusion.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, Your Highness..."

"Well..." Klaus sighed dramatically. "I intended to speak to you after this bit of business was over, but I should probably reward myself with your discomfort now." He motioned for the now wary noble to sit.

"One of the terms of my alliance with House Fleming is that Fell's Church will return to its position as the capital city of Antioch upon the end of Elena's reign; which will leave Mystic Falls without someone to govern her. In light of that, she and I have agreed to one of lords of the North being selected to fill that role. That lord is you, Damon."

"You're sending me to the South and putting me in charge of Mystic Falls?" Damon asked incredulously.

"I can think of no one better suited for the position," Klaus answered.

"Neither can I," Damon nodded. "But I fail to see how such an honor would cause discomfort." The North was his home, but he couldn't deny the allure of the southern port city. The place teemed with activity and each new day brought trade from foreign lands.

"That's because I haven't gotten to the best part," Klaus pointed out. "A position of such stature isn't for one with a penchant for scandal. And while I have no doubt that the city will be safe in your hands...I can't have you taking up residence in every whorehouse or seducing every sea captain's daughter. It's time you were wed, Salvatore and I have just the person in mind." He almost laughed at Damon's expression as it was something akin to someone dying of thirst only to be given a goblet of spoiled milk.

"Three months hence, you will wed Lady Aurora Martel of House Martel."

"Your whore?!" Damon exclaimed, his ice blue eyes nearly bulging out of his head.

"I believe it's inappropriate to refer to your betrothed in such terms, brother," Stefan offered, struggling to contain his smile.

"What the fuck, Klaus?!" Damon demanded.

Klaus turned to Stefan and raised an eyebrow at the lapse in decorum, "Funny how quickly we've gone from 'my king' and 'Your Highness' to 'what the fuck, Klaus?'''

"Indeed," Stefan nodded. "To go from mewling sycophant to near treasonous in the blink of an eye…it's impressive."

"What offense did I cause to warrant such a punishment?" Damon asked.

"Punishment?" Klaus scoffed. "This is by no means a punishment, Damon. Governance of a major port city and marriage to a highborn lady of a noble house; this is a reward for your loyal service."

"Stefan gets rewarded with a marriage to your beloved sister while I'm getting your… _mistress_. I think that says something about my place in your esteem."

Klaus considered the disgruntled noble's words for a moment. "Yes, I suppose it does," he replied matter-of-factly and heard Stefan chuckle in response.

"Listen to me, Damon," Klaus continued. "I can't have you going down there to wind up with more of your bastards littering the realm. Any attempt by you to do so would be akin to taking your life into your hands with a wife like Lady Aurora. Moreover, while I remain fond of her, I've also begun to tire of her company. Better to end it now and see her sorted with marriage to a loyal friend while also avoiding the headache of having my bride and the woman who's shared my bed living under the same roof." The eldest daughter of House Martel was a handful to be sure. But her sharp tongue and quick wit had been successful in keeping him entertained while also enjoying the pleasures of her body.

Klaus watched as Damon stewed over the sudden turn of events. He would agree and be grateful. How could he not?

"Very well," Damon relented finally. "But if she is to be _my wife_ , then she will be _my wife_."

Klaus caught the young lord's meaning and barked out a laugh in reply.

"I am your king, Damon," he reminded him coolly. "Your marriage means nothing to me if I want her. However, I don't want her and I don't see that changing. Besides, if I'm being honest, Aurora keeping you in line will probably go down in history as her truest service to the realm so it all works out in the end."

"She's a shrew," Damon complained.

"She knows her own mind," Klaus countered.

"She's conniving," Damon returned.

"I'd prefer to call it crafty," he answered.

"So because you've been roped into a wedding for the sake of the realm, I have to be roped into one too?"

Klaus clapped Damon on the back good naturedly, "Shit does have a tendency to roll downhill, my friend."

 **BKBKBKBK**

Bonnie studied her reflection as her new Lady-in-Waiting fussed over her. Lady Caroline Forbes of House Forbes had been appointed by Elena shortly after Bonnie had been named her successor. The young woman's ministrations were punctuated with sighs of admiration as she smoothed down the rich fabrics of Bonnie's wedding attire.

The seamstresses commissioned for her new wardrobe had indeed worked day and night. Some had even travelled from the South with them as several pieces had yet to be completed; sewing along the way. Bonnie would have been content to maintain the clothing she already possessed—even when they were children Elena insisted that she be dressed as well as any noblewoman—but her protests were quickly rebuffed.

Her hands nervously ran over the finely made golden lace of her gown. Without the undergarments that accompanied it, the delicate item was nearly see-through save for the deep burgundy overdress in which Caroline now dressed her.

Burgundy and gold. The colors of House Fleming.

Bonnie Fleming of House Fleming.

 _In all honesty, it doesn't roll easily off the tongue_ , she mused.

In the weeks since she agreed to marry, Bonnie barely had a moment to herself. The priests had set themselves to preparing her for the Unification; the ritual that would pass Elena's ordination as keeper to her. For the Shadows of Amara, the transfer was naturally occurring. One died and the ordination awakened within the next. However because Bonnie was not of that line, the priests concluded that the best course of action would be to recreate the ritual that granted Amara her ordination one thousand years ago.

She'd known instantly that the ritual had been a success. She'd felt the moment when the Power that gave life to their land connected with her own. Her fear nearly propelled her from the altar on which she lay, but the possibility of her secret accidentally being revealed kept her in place. She lay there as all that was Antioch seemed burn itself into her blood; into her very being.

 _Was this what Amara endured?_

Once her screams died off, all that remained was a trembling, crying mess of a newly royal heir.

She felt… _different_. From the moment her powers first presented themselves, her magic had felt like a constantly low hum of lightning in her veins. But now that lightning felt anchored to a reservoir of power so great as to feel burdensome. She felt heavier; as if even the mere taking of one step brought all of Antioch with her.

Later, she'd brought her observation to Elena for comparison. According to the queen, her connection to Antioch bore no resemblance to what Bonnie described. She suggested that perhaps the difference truly lay in Bonnie being a witch. Amara as well as her shadow selves possessed no magic. Perhaps their connection—while vital—was rooted in the mundane whereas Bonnie's was rooted in magic.

Bonnie saw the truth in her theory. She saw it in how much stronger, she began to feel with each passing day as the Power of Antioch became more tightly woven into her own.

A knock at the door, pulled Bonnie from her thoughts as Elena entered.

"How do I look?" Bonnie asked dryly.

"Like a queen," Elena replied.

They'd arrived in Fell's Church the night before and the Northerners had extended a surprisingly smooth reception into the Mikaelson castle, Dragon's Nest—so named for the mythical beast believed to slumber beneath the mountain from which the castle was carved. Over the centuries, the ancestral home of the Mikaelsons had fallen into neglectful ruin by Southern decree. But with the Mikaelson rebellion against Katherine and the subsequent crowning of Klaus, the task of restoring Dragon's Nest to its former glory was now taken well in hand.

As was tradition with arranged marriages the bride and groom must remain unseen by one another until the time of the ceremony. So, Bonnie was escorted-heavily veiled-to her new apartments within the castle's east wing. She took her supper there and would remain cloistered until the wedding.

"I don't feel like a queen," Bonnie grumbled.

Though her every comfort had been attended to, she hadn't slept a wink. Her breakfast went untouched and her mind remained unable to focus on anything even remotely connected to her upcoming nuptials. She barely registered the grandeur of her new apartments let alone acknowledged the fact there was a massive door that connected them to the bedchamber she would later be tossed into with her new husband.

 _Her new husband._

She looked down at her hands. Caroline adorned each finger with delicately fashioned rings save for the forefinger of her left hand. There the Wolf King would place the signet ring of his house.

She'd only been a Fleming for a matter of weeks and now she would a Mikaelson before nightfall.

Elena excused Caroline and continued on with applying the final touches to Bonnie's attire.

"Do you remember when we were children and we would imagine our lives as adults?" Elena asked once Caroline left the room. "At first you said that you saw yourself with a family—with a husband and children. But that changed as the years passed...why?"

"After a while—and despite your best efforts at folly—I realized that knowledge was my calling; learning and perhaps teaching," Bonnie answered. "What husband wants a wife who has the heart of a Preceptor? One more enamored with ancient texts than needlework? Add to that the discovery of what I am—a truth that if told would cost me not only my freedom but my life? What husband could I trust with it? Moreover…who would I be to subject children to the same jeopardy? It was a dream that reality would not abide."

"And yet here you are, about to be married and likely to have a babe in your arms within the year," Elena mused.

"Indeed," Bonnie nodded. "But make no mistake: the only reason I haven't run off into the wilderness never to be seen or heard from again is the fact that you're right. My place as your successor protects me from all that my kind fear. And despite how few and far between we are throughout the world, perhaps I can use this position to protect those like me as well."

It was the only true bright spot in the chaos of her circumstance. Yes she was committed to the survival of Antioch. But having been compelled into service by the machinations of others, she needed a reason that was for her and her alone.

Antioch would have its Queen and Keeper... but those like her would also have their defender.

"What about you?" Bonnie asked finally. "Has the path you saw for you ever changed?"

"No," Elena answered simply, giving Bonnie's waist length tresses one final swipe of the brush and smirked at the irony. Deep down, she'd never seen or even wanted the idyllic life her friend once craved. From childhood on, her eye remained ever fixed on Antioch.

"It was the realm for me," she explained softly. "Always the realm."

 **#**

Klaus stood on the dais and looked out upon the hall as the court musicians softly played. Those present represented every noble house throughout Antioch along with delegations from lands with which they traded. Mikael would have been positively apoplectic over an assembly of such notoriety convening on behalf of his bastard son. The thought alone brought a smirk to Klaus' face as he and the High Priest waited for the doors to open and his bride to arrive.

As if on cue, the doors to the rear of the hall opened and revealed her; her face hidden behind a veil of gold lace. Her hand rested atop Elena's as the queen escorted her heir forward.

When they reached the steps, Elena turned and carefully removed the veil from Bonnie's head and Klaus suddenly found himself brought up short.

Clearly Stefan's concerns regarding his ambivalence toward his future wife were unfounded. Any curious ponderings would ultimately have been a waste of time as nothing could have prepared him for the diminutive young woman the veil revealed.

Large green eyes peered up at him from where she stood. Their color was startling in that he couldn't recall having ever seen eyes of such an unusual shade. They gazed out from a heart-shaped face with fine cheekbones. Her skin, being a golden brown, seemed to warm beneath the light of the torches and braziers throughout the hall—the burgundy and gold of her gown making it glow.

Her gown was also kind enough to reveal the delicate swell of full breasts that tapered down to a small waist that sat atop gently curving hips. She was also a great deal shorter in height than Elena and more delicately formed.

She was lovely.

Klaus extended his hand and watched as Elena placed Bonnie's within it before he guided his bride up the small steps to join him.

Over the past several weeks, Bonnie tried a handful of times to get a clear assessment of Niklaus Mikaelson out of Elena. Was he handsome? Did he possess all of his teeth? Did bathing appear a common activity? Her responses to such inquiries were: "Depends on what you find handsome; I'm certain he's been punched in the face repeatedly and he seemed relatively fresh." Her friend's willful ambiguity regarding her questions caused her a moderate amount of worry, but now having seen him she understands a bit more.

 _How did one describe Niklaus Mikaelson_?

He stood nearly a foot taller as unreadable midnight blue eyes peered down at her. An impudent smirk revealed a pair of dimples and Bonnie surmised that her betrothed bore not only a werewolf curse; he was positively wolfish in his demeanor.

He may have been a bastard, but it was clear that he'd been provided proper instruction in the ways nobility; and yet he still exuded a wildness and brutality that only confirmed the tales of his bloodthirstiness on the battlefield.

He was not handsome by Southern standards; his brow too prominent, the fullness of his lips bordering too closely to the obscene. Unruly golden blonde curls reached his shoulders while a dark blonde scruff of beard clung to a strongly chiseled jaw.

No, he was not handsome by Southern standards…but she supposed he was handsome all the same.

Klaus continued to hold her hand as the High Priest began to drone on about the importance of marriage. His words went unheard as he continued to size her up. They were adversaries suddenly made allies. There was no trust between them and no benefit of the doubt. Now was the time for poking and prodding and discovering the chinks in one's armor; to find some way to win an advantage. The very nature of their union depended on it.

 _Let the priest blather on; she will recite the words as will I and Stefan will pass me the ceremonial cloak of House Mikaelson. I will drape the bloody thing across her shoulders and place my family's sigil upon her finger. They would be pronounced man and wife but it would be of no matter; for now,the realization that you've bound yourself to an enemy you have not defined and now call her wife must take hold. You must not take your eyes off of her. You must remain alert for any means to gain the upper hand._

Klaus continued to gaze at his bride while the ceremony played out. Yes, she was lovely, but it was her eyes that sent a rush of energy up his spine and put his senses on alert. Oddly colored eyes that even now gazed back at him with an intensity that matched his own and revealed an intelligence that left little doubt that her thoughts matched his own as well.

 _Stefan had been right after all…_

He should have been more curious.

 **#**

The wedding festivities began with a receiving line for the new couple. As most were more curious about his bride, he'd been able to watch as the lords and ladies of the North introduced themselves and offered up gifts in honor of the occasion. She accepted them all gracefully; a demure smile fixed upon bow-shaped lips.

When the members of his own house approached her, he had to admit that he was curious as to what they could have possibly thought to give her.

His sister Rebekah presented her with a dagger; its blade said to be made of _dragonsteel_ while its handle and sheath were both made of a _mosstone_ that matched her eyes. The beautiful piece was gilded with tiny jewels that formed lovely floral patterns.

His wife's smile grew in appreciation of the both the weapon's craftsmanship and its rarity; but she truly beamed with excitement when presented with the _Personal Accounts of the First Northern Queens_ by his sister Freya along with several illustrated volumes of northern history presented by Elijah. Bonnie had practically danced in her seat at the gifts and eagerly promised to arrange time to discuss the writings in depth.

She seemed so genuinely pleased that for the briefest of moments, Klaus wanted to snap both his brother's and his sister's necks for not enlightening him to their cleverness while also wondering if he would have been able to elicit such a response from her.

They later adjourned to the dining hall-was a hive of activity—for the banquet. Several dozen long tables bearing nobility from every house in Antioch dominated the room as servants weaved between them bearing massive trenchers filled with an abundance of regional fare. Entertainment was also in great supply as fire dancers and petty magicians charmed the wedding guests. In a stroke of genius, Stefan commissioned one of the most well-known theatre troupes in the realm to perform a retelling of the death of Queen Katherine; a less than subtle reminder to any Northern lord that despite their conflict, Elena's truest service to Antioch had been her removal of the Mad Queen's head.

Klaus sat next to his new wife at their long table and watched as her curious fingers reached towards several of the food-laden trenchers before them; adding choice bits to her plate and going back for more. Her healthy appetite amused him, but his chance to engage her arrived once she reached for one trencher in particular.

Bonnie gasped in surprise at the hand that suddenly wrapped itself around her wrist, stopping her.

"Have a care, little wife," Klaus warned. "That there is called _lumpbread_ and it isn't for the faint of heart." He nodded toward the trencher in question.

Bonnie's eyes widened in amusement. "Forgive me but… _I just married you_ …how faint of heart could I possibly be?" Her tone gently mocked him while it coaxed a smile in response.

"Well, when you put it that way…" he demurred as he released her wrist.

He made certain to maintain the bored expression on his face as she reached for a helping of the lumpbread and added it to her plate.

Bonnie wrinkled her nose and found the dish ill-named as it didn't resemble bread at all. It smelled of meat and stood as stiffly as the sea sponges she used when bathing.

She popped a morsel into her mouth and was immediately met with a sudden and intense rebellion of her senses at the foulness she'd ingested. Her eyes watered, her ears burned and she fought valiantly against the urge to retch. She reached blindly for her wine goblet and drained it.

Klaus leaned towards her and spoke lowly near her ear, "Lumpbread is made from the entrails of winterbeasts. They leave them out in the sun for several days to spoil before the dish can be prepared," he explained. "While it is an honored delicacy that dates back to the First Ones, most Northerners have it at their tables in deference to the past while having no intention of actually suffering through such awfulness." He fought the urge to laugh at her discomfort and continued to school his features.

"No matter," he went on, smugly. "We'll call this your first lesson in heeding the wisdom of your husband."

Bonnie's eyes narrowed in response before a sugary sweet smile bloomed on her lips.

"Why husband, I don't know what you mean," she replied innocently. "I find lumpbread to be as tasty as all of the fare I've sampled tonight." To punctuate her point, she slowly began to eat every bit of lumpbread that remained on her plate; her pride alone keeping her from falling apart into a trembling mass of disgust.

Klaus quirked an eyebrow at her defiant little performance.

 _Oh joy,_ he thought ruefully. _The gods have blessed me with a stubborn wife._

 **#**

They were clumsily pushed into their bedchamber by a rush of arms. Lady Caroline and Klaus' manservant Aiden stayed behind; each tending to their charge. Caroline ushered Bonnie over to the vanity in a nearby corner; her fingers making quick yet practiced work of removing the newlywed's jewelry before unlacing the ties of her of her overdress and freeing her from her undergarments.

By the time she finished her ministrations, Bonnie stood wearing only her golden gown.

Caroline came to stand before her and clasped Bonnie's hands in hers. Blonde curls bobbed around her head as she gently squeezed Bonnie's hands before offering up a smile of encouragement and quick curtsey. She then turned and made her way toward the Bonnie's apartments; Aiden followed suit in the direction room that belonged that belonged to Klaus.

The sound of both doors creaking shut suddenly made the massive bedchamber feel terribly small.

Bonnie closed her eyes and gathered her wits about her. She steeled herself against the nerves that clawed at her insides and turned to face her new husband.

The firelight from the hearth made him question if she was real as it illuminated her in a way that made her hair gleam turned her eyes into jewels. Without undergarments, her gown was nearly transparent; the delicacy of the lace outlining her curves in a way that made his hands thrum with the urge to touch her.

Her own were clasped before her; the ring bearing the Mikaelson sigil visible on her left forefinger. The sight of it caused a twisting in his gut as he considered her plight.

All of a month ago she'd been a free woman; a scholar as well as a diplomat it would seem. And in the blink of an eye she'd been compelled to rule a people who weren't her own, bound to a land not her own and wedded to a man not of her choice.

 _Yes, the gods had made great sport of his tiny wife._

He moved towards a table and filled two goblets with wine. "You look like you could use it," he said as he drew closer and held one out to her.

Bonnie accepted the goblet with a tight smile; but when he expected her to sip demurely, she instead turned the goblet up and began to slowly drain its contents in one gulp.

Impressed when she didn't drop like a stone after the feat, he refilled her goblet and drank from his own.

"Better?" He asked.

"Yes, thank you," Bonnie replied as she studied the contents of her goblet.

She looked up when he moved away; finally taking full measure of him. He was bare-chested having apparently shunned the traditional night shirt worn by the men of Antioch in favor of the linen breeches favored by those from the Isle of Orleans. They hung loosely about his hips; drawing attention to both the pair of veins that sat near his hipbones and the faint trail of dark blond hair that began at his navel and disappeared beneath his waistband.

She knew him to be a great warrior who'd found countless battles, but his flesh bore no scars; another sobering reminder that she'd married someone not entirely from the world of men.

"Elena tells me that you are unspoiled," Klaus remarked.

His words caught her off guard and she frowned in response.

"A fresh jug of milk is unspoiled; salted pork is unspoiled; despite the evening's festivities, my gown is also unspoiled. However,I am a virgin."

"Indeed," Klaus replied, smirking at her cheekiness. "And a remarkable feat considering what I know of the Southern realm."

"I suspect that what you know of the South could easily fit inside of this goblet, Northerner," Bonnie returned, her voice dripping with fool's honey.

"Careful, wife," Klaus warned. "One wouldn't want to rile her husband when such delicate business is still at hand."

He was right and she knew it. Husbands weren't under any obligation to be kind to their wives regardless of their station. She'd certainly seen plenty of cruelty and indifference meted out to the wedded members of her sex.

But her pride rebelled against any perceived danger. Yes, he could hurt her, but she could hurt him as well if need be. The truth of it coursed through her veins and fueled her as she remembered the vows she made as well as the ones she didn't make.

She vowed to honor him.

 _She did not vow to bend to his vanity._

She vowed fidelity.

 _She did not vow meekness._

"As I said," she reminded him. "I married you; how faint of heart could I be?"

Klaus cleared the space between them as Bonnie lifted her stubborn little chin. He peered down at her, still searching for the chink in her armor. Her shoulders were straight and her spine stiffened with courage, but despite the defiant tilt of her chin, her eyes told the truth of it. Their unusual green was both steady and resolute. But she couldn't hide the flicker of doubt that lived within their golden flecks.

To his surprise, he found he didn't like it.

Instead, he reached out a lifted a lock of her hair and felt its softness between his thumb and forefinger.

"I suppose we'll find out, now won't we?" He asked, letting the lock fall and nestle itself against the curve of her breast.

He held her gaze for a moment longer before he turned away and felt her eyes follow him as he made his way to the bed— _their bed_ —and tossed back the bedding on his side.

Bonnie turned away quickly, her face flaming red as she saw him begin to step out of his breeches before slid beneath the covers.

"Come to bed… _wife_ ," Klaus quietly beckoned.

Bonnie swallowed hard and she steeled herself anew before she crept slowly towards their bed; trying to ignore the fact that it was currently occupied by a naked man…beast… _manbeast_.

She opted to keep her gown on as she slid beneath the covers and lay on her back; her breath struggling to remain even as she focused on the ceiling above her and waited for her husband's advance.

Instead, he merely rolled over until his back was to her and fluffed the pillows beneath his head.

Bonnie stared at his bare back in confusion. _What game was he playing? Was he attempt to lull her into a false sense of security before pouncing and terrorizing her?_

"Sleep, Bonnie," she heard him mumble. "Your virtue will still be yours in the morning."

 **BKBKBKBK**

Elena paused from her writing to drink deeply from her goblet. She'd stayed around long enough to see Bonnie pushed into her new bedchamber before she made her way to the rooms that had been set aside for her; her personal guards flanking her as she walked. Once safely inside, she shoo'ed away any attempts from her Ladies-in-Waiting to help her prepare for bed.

Instead she called for quill and paper and drained goblet after goblet; absently using the sleeve of her gown to wipe at the blood that had begun to drip from her nose more frequently.

The nosebleeds had begun a scant few days after Bonnie's Unification ritual.

There was no help for it, really. Because of the ritual's success, Antioch now had two living Keepers. She'd instructed the priests to assure Bonnie that there would be no consequence to such an event, but the truth was shared among them:

In order for the covenant to be made with one, it would be severed with the other.

Severed was a good word for it. To cut the bond between Antioch and its Keeper prematurely was akin to the crude amputation of a limb. The body endured the shock, the wound cauterized and a hopeful some form of replacement found. But the limb itself, divested so unceremoniously, merely bled and withered until finally cast aside.

So too had Elena, Queen and Keeper of Antioch, last Shadow of Amara…begun to wither.

Her quill flew across the page as she wrote. There was much she needed Bonnie to understand about her bond with Antioch. It wasn't all burden and duty; there was a wonder to it that Elena herself had never truly been able to grasp, a wonder more suited to one such as Bonnie. She was certain that despite everything, her dearest friend would not only thrive, she would change the face of Antioch for the better.

Elena almost wished she'd be alive long enough to see it.

 _A/N: Full disclosure: When it comes to GOT my crackship is Jon x Missandei (I STILL say Dany and Drogo are endgame dammit.) and last summer I came up with a speculative scenario that could bring my little ship to pass: Dany choosing to do what many have done throughout history when a sovereign is likely to leave a throne heirless while also needing to form alliances: adoption. Dany adopts Missandei, names her heir and then arranges a marriage between her and Jon, thus joining a loyal and trusted friend to a much needed ally._

 _But since my muse's ass apparently belongs solely to Klonnie, I'm not the least bit inspired to write a Jon x Missandei fic despite my affection for the ship and my affection for the idea of all the classism bullshit in Westeros ending with a former slave and a bastard ruling the Seven Kingdoms. So I've taken that speculative scenario and applied it to Klonnie instead and this is the result._

 _Hope you guys like the start of this. I can tell you right now that this will be a relatively quick fic involving only a handful of chapters. I'd really love to hear what you all think._

 _Also if you haven't already, please be sure to check out Anastasia-G's A Case of You. Between that fic and Six2VII's The USS Spock, these Klonnie hoes are out here playing with my emotions._


	2. Sparrow

**Sparrow**

 _Having just docked in the port city of Edona, Lord Saltzman's ship was a flurry of activity as his small but affluent household prepared to disembark._

 _Bonnie and Elena bobbed and weaved their way past servants and slaves bearing their belongings as they descended the wooden planks toward the pier. Nine-year-old bodies trembled with excitement and wanted nothing more than to run and explore the carnival of sights and sounds._

 _Elena, already tall for her age, bounded down the gang plank with long easy strides with Bonnie following closely behind; her quick steps keeping up with ease. The fine quality of their clothing spoke to Elena's station as did the thin, iron collar around Bonnie's neck._

 _They raced along the pier, farther and farther away from Alaric's ship and away from the frustrated cries of Jenna, Elena's governess at their flight until they reached the heart of the city's merchant district and skidded to a stop with twin gasps of wonder at the sight._

 _The outdoor bazaar teemed with life. Exotic animals growled from their cages and fire dancers drank from flame-filled goblets. A cacophony of voices proclaiming their wares hung over all as the two inhaled spice sweetened air._

 _Hand in hand, the girls pushed through the crowd urgently; guardsmen—summoned by Jenna no doubt—already in pursuit._

" _Do you think we lost them?" Bonnie shouted when she looked over shoulder to find them gone._

" _Not a chance," Elena answered. "Alaric pays too well for them to be so easily shaken."_

 _The girls turned down one of the wider alleyways and felt the crush of bodies ease. Elena slowed to a stop in front of a tent advertising a fortune teller. With a timid shake of Bonnie's head and firm nod of her, Elena gently tugged Bonnie's arm and led her inside._

 _A woman sat nestled beneath piles of furs despite the balmy warmth of the day. Gnarled and worn hands rested clasped beneath her chin while ink black eyes peered out from the deep wrinkles of her paper-thin skin._

" _You shouldn't be here," she croaked._

" _We shouldn't be here," Bonnie echoed, unnerved by the old woman's eyes that continued to stare without blinking._

 _Elena reached into the small pouch at her side and held up a gold coin for the woman to see._

" _We've come to hear our fortunes," Elena announced._

" _Children shouldn't ask for such things," the woman scoffed. "Haven't lived long enough to earn them."_

 _Elena slapped the coin down on the small table that separated them and straightened her shoulders._

" _This tells me it doesn't matter how long we've lived, old woman," Elena said, pointing at the coin. "We want our fortunes told._ _Now_ _."_

 _The woman clicked her teeth in displeasure before reaching for the coin._

" _Very well," she said finally. "This will earn you three questions a piece." She pocketed the coin before sliding a small dagger towards Elena._

" _Prick your finger," she instructed. "And Beela will read from the book of your life."_

 _Elena hesitated before lifting the dagger and pressing it against her forefinger; blood instantly welling to the surface._

 _Beela opened her mouth as she leaned forward and presented a short, discolored tongue._

 _Elena frowned at the sight before she held her finger above the old woman's mouth and let several drops of blood land._

 _Beela closed her mouth and leaned back, seeming to savor the taste._

" _Ask your questions," she commanded._

" _Will I be queen?" Elena asked. From what little Alaric told her, the acquisition of an army and allies was proving difficult so far away from Antioch._

" _Yes," Beela replied. "You will win a throne of blood that only your heir can make clean."_

 _Bonnie's eyes brightened as she leaned towards her friend. "An heir!" Bonnie practically squealed in excitement at the implication._

" _Blew right past the throne of blood and landed on me having a baby, eh?" Elena said wryly._

" _It's your Aunt Katherine's throne, of course it's bloody," Bonnie shrugged._

" _Will I be a good queen?" Elena asked._

" _You will strive to be good but you will succeed at being just...most of the time." The old woman's bones seemed to creak with any small movement as she resettled herself on her cushions._

" _Aren't they the same thing?" Elena asked mildly exasperated._

" _No," Beela and Bonnie said in unison._

" _One last question, Shadow Queen," Beela reminded her._

 _Elena chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. "How will my reign end?"_

 _Bonnie felt the woman's eyes on her and saw something resembling a sly smile appeared amidst a landscape of leathered skin._

" _With a wedding," Beela answered matter-of-factly before sliding her knife over to Bonnie._

 _Elena frowned with suspicion, "Hopefully not my own," she murmured._

 _Bonnie stabbed her finger and waited for Beela to wash down a swallow of wine before squeezing her drops of blood onto the woman's tongue._

" _Ask your questions," she instructed._

" _Will Lord Saltzman ever free me?" Bonnie asked carefully._

" _No," Beela replied, drawing a frown from Elena._

" _I'm to wear this for the rest of my life?" The words came out haltingly, as if the question itself were the answer._

" _No," Beela answered, with a grin meant to frustrate._

" _Do you want to know what's in store for you, little sparrow? The old woman asked finally, her eyes fixed on Bonnie. The child's eyes were wide with fright as her small teeth worried at her bottom lip. Nevertheless, she inhaled deeply before nodding in answer._

" _Ice," Beela hissed. "And fire…and all the terror and wonder that lay in between."_

 _The old woman's eyes glanced over to a spot near the entrance of her tent._

" _Keep close to your mistress," she advised before a steel-gloved hand landed heavily on Bonnie's shoulder and sent her heart leaping into throat._

She awoke with a start.

The dream—more memory than fantasy, greeted her every night as she tried to sleep beside a man—a husband—she prayed would ignore her. While those prayers were answered every night when he'd turn his back to her and begin to snore softly, the long-forgotten prophecy remained to keep her company.

The old woman had spoken true. Dismissed almost as soon as her words were spoken, they were still unfolding with each day that passed.

 _But why_ _now_ _?_ _Why had this all happened now and so suddenly?_

Bonnie gazed up at the high ceiling of their bed chamber. It was not yet dawn, but the castle would have already begun to stir. It had been nearly a week since Elena's passing and the fledgling court of King Niklaus the Sixth and Queen Bonnie the First had been plunged unexpectedly into The Sorrows; the traditional seven-day period of mourning as prescribed by the Faith.

Today was the last day of her vigil.

Elena's body would be interred in the Mikaelson crypt until such time as Stefan's older brother, Damon was ready to travel south to assume governorship of Mystic Falls. Once there, she would find her final resting place in the Fleming crypt and receive a crossing rite worthy of a queen of Antioch.

For now, the royal family would assemble in the crypt later this morning for the smaller ceremony necessary for laying a body in sacred ground even temporarily.

 _The royal family…_

Bonnie glanced over to her husband's sleeping form.

 _Seven Hells…_

To his and their credit, the Mikaelsons had shown great courtesy to the newest member of their house. Rebekah had been the picture of kindly understated empathy as she gently guided Bonnie's introduction to her new home. She met with Elijah daily regarding the arrangements for Elena's crossing over in Mystic Falls as well as the restructuring of the castle's staff to include servants, tradesmen, knights and courtiers that traveled from the south with the bridal party. The rest of her day was spent in the godswood with the high priest to meditate and reflect on the departed.

But it was only within the privacy of her own apartments with Caroline her only witness, that the full breadth of her grief found expression as tears would flow unabated.

As for her husband, he'd made the very wise decision to keep as wide a berth between them as appearances would allow.

For to her mind, the cause of Elena's death was very much in doubt.

Priests and preceptors were in agreement that her demise was the natural result of her link to Antioch being severed and the high priest intimated that she'd been aware of her fate for some time.

It was believable and yet she did not believe it—or at the very least she didn't want to.

If they were mistaken at best or lying at worst, then Elena had been murdered. And who would benefit most from her death now that he was bound by marriage to her heir?

Klaus Mikaelson.

The Wolf King.

The Butcher of Bayside Keep.

The monster cursed by gods and men.

To do such a thing wasn't beneath him in the slightest. And in doing so she would virtually become a prisoner in this castle. Her life was now bonded to the land itself-guaranteeing her safety from an assassin's plot—but that certainty and no impact on her freedom. She could very easily find herself a hostage: kept alive and well for necessity's sake yet locked away; her only responsibility being to grow and care for his heirs after he rutted upon her to his heart's content—the whole of Antioch held firm in his grasp.

That was equally believable.

If he was innocent of her suspicions, then Elena deliberately withheld the truth. Whether to guarantee Bonnie's agreement to succeed her or because she hadn't the courage to speak of her end or both, the result was an unequivocal blindside.

The time she'd have to adjust to her new roles and the guidance from one who'd filled them?

Her strongest ally?

Her dearest friend and the only family she's ever known?

 _Gone_. Without warning or goodbye.

Her breath caught and she froze for a moment as Klaus turned blindly in his sleep to face her. She half expected him to open his eyes and glare as he'd done so often over the past several days. Brief flashes of his true feeling regarding their arrangement that revealed themselves when he thought no one was looking.

Fortunately for her, she was taught to never stop looking.

 _It must really twist his balls having to appear to mourn Elena_ , she mused, once assured that he still slept. The only outpouring of grief to be found in the North for the dead queen was solely of Southern origin; her presence among her Northern subject he only damper to what would have likely been seven days of rampant celebration instead.

She studied the slumbering Northerner as she had been since her arrival. When negotiating with a potentially hostile individual, she found it best to build an image of them in her mind. Every new fact or detail discovered adding to and perfecting the replica. She'd already begun cataloging a library of his expressions and would see them all properly named before she was satisfied. She aimed to know this man as completely as possible, regardless of whether Elena's death was of his design. To know a thing was to manipulate a thing and if she was to rule in concert with a man such a Klaus, then such knowledge would be key to Antioch's success.

 _And what had she learned so far?_

The King of Antioch and Lord of House Mikaelson was moody, to say the least, and suffered fools not at all. Horribly impatient with others, yet extremely patient with himself and committed to doing everything in his own time. He doted on his family despite all outward signs to the contrary and when he wasn't among them, he was out in the training yard or off hunting or locked in his own apartments.

He was also handsome. She'd been of that opinion since their wedding

She resisted the urge to reach out and brush the mop of dark curls away from his eyes. When he wasn't forced to submit to grooming for a formal occasion, it always remained thus, thick and unruly; shielding his eyes from deeper inquiry.

When the midnight blue windows were open, they peered out from beneath his heavy brow as narrow slits; penetrating and mocking in equal measure. He was a man capable of great cruelty and his eyes told the truth of it.

His body, however spoke of other truths. The information available to her regarding werewolf curses was fairly limited. But it was known that the cursed were subject to physical injury in much the same way as the average man, until said curse was fulfilled by a murderous act. At that point they became resilient, healing rapidly and leaving behind no trace that a wound ever existed.

Which meant the landscape of scars that adorned her husband's body had been acquired relatively young. Being well versed in both anatomy and more than an academic in the principles of surgery, it was clear that some of wounds acquired by young Niklaus were indeed the result of combat. Whether or a battlefield or in a tavern, she couldn't be certain, she definitely detected the remnants of blow from a warhammer taken to his right side at least once which likely crushed several ribs. Mace, axe, sword, they'd all tasted his blood, she could see and his nose and jaw had been broken more than once.

Together it all told a harrowing story of endless conflict, highlighted by indigo blue tattoos that could only be wilding in nature. However, it was the oldest of his scars that gave her pause. So old they appeared as faint white lines that receded to the background and whispered of lashings at an age too young to be borne.

She thought of the first time she'd taken a life and wondered when Klaus had taken his first and why.

Not wanting to tempt fate any further and suffer the awkwardness of having him wake up while she's very obviously studying him, she carefully eased herself from their bed and made her way to her apartments to begin the day.

 **BKBKBKBK**

"I think you should return to Forwood Hall," Bonnie announced suddenly while she soaked in the tub, prompting Caroline to grab a small stool and sit next to her.

"Have I done something to displease you, your grace?" she asked, worried.

"Not at all," Bonnie assured. "Consider it more of a pre-emptive measure."

"Do you truly believe we are in danger here?" Caroline asked, keeping her voice low.

"I don't know what to believe," Bonnie replied honestly. "This could very well work itself out for the best; but if it doesn't, then I would see you far away from here and safe in your family's holdfast."

"Where I can safely die of boredom," Caroline muttered.

Bonnie's eyes widened it response, "Have you truly taken to this place so quickly then?"

"It has its charms," the lady-in-waiting hedged, suddenly fascinated by embroidered flowers on of her sleeves.

Bonnie fixed her with a look, "And what is the name of this ambassador of Northern charm?"

"Ser Tyler Lockwood..."

"Of the royal guard?" Bonnie gasped when the young woman blushed. It was nice to chat about something as harmless as a fledgling infatuation and Caroline's typically sunny disposition made her moods infectious.

She continued to listen as the blonde spoke of sidelong glances and errant touches; of little notes found under her door and scented handkerchiefs tucked into steel gauntlets.

"You do realize that as my lady-in-waiting, your father expects me to find you a proper match?" Bonnie asked finally.

"Yes, your grace; and I have every confidence in your decision-making."

"Then you know that by 'proper' your father is expecting a lord…not a knight."

Caroline sighed in exasperation, "I'm the eldest daughter of my house, therefore I know what he expects of me. But I also have brothers whose prospects are of even greater import I wish he'd focus more on them and less on me."

"Yes, your brothers will make matches far more beneficial to House Forbes," Bonnie agreed. "However, none of them are currently sitting next to the queen of Antioch while she's at her bath. Your proximity to the throne gives your father a vested interest, unfortunately."

"But I don't need to marry a lord to be treated like a lady, your grace," Caroline replied.

"No, you don't," Bonnie agreed soberly. "Very well, should it turn out that my husband has not conspired to murder my kinswoman, then I will take your preferences under advisement in the matter of matchmaking. At least one of us should have a choice in the matter."

Caroline hesitated for a moment before speaking, unsure of how to begin. "Your grace, if I may...perhaps the answers to your concerns about the king are in there," she offered, nodding in the direction of a small table where a sealed envelope lay.

It had been found in Elena's hands according to the high priest. Bonnie walked by it several times a day—stopping to pick it up only to set it back down again-and promised that the next time she'd have the courage to read it. But her courage seemed nowhere to be found. How could it be?

"I cannot read it," Bonnie said quietly already feeling the sting of tears.

"Your grace...how can you not?" Caroline pressed gently. "I did not know Queen Elena as you did, but I cannot believe she would have written it with no purpose. Her words were meant to be read."

"Yes, and afterward there won't be any more words from her will there?" Bonnie pointed out, her voice beginning to break. "I've endured many changes in my life, Caroline and I've accepted them in relative stride...but this...I simply don't know how to accept that my friend will never speak to me again after this; that those words are indeed her last." Fat tears welled up as she leaned into Caroline's outstretched arms.

"I'm sorry, your grace," Caroline soothed. "I truly am. But given how uncertain your predicament is at the moment, can you afford not read it? Would Queen Elena have abided your refusal with so much at stake?"

"You're beginning to sound like me," Bonnie said, smiling sadly. "I don't think I like it."

"I'm afraid you've only yourself to blame, your grace, as it is in effort to be as much of a help to you as you were to our queen," Caroline replied.

"Read the letter," she continued. "Whether it speaks of treachery or not, there will still be much work ahead and that letter may be the best resource to prepare you for it."

Bonnie considered Caroline words, knowing that she was right. She looked again towards the letter and could almost feel Elena's disapproving look at it having gone so long unopened.

"I will read it," vowed finally. "I will read it before putting head to pillow tonight."

 **KBKBKBKBK**

Klaus waved Aiden away and poured himself another drink before bed, drowning the goblet in one deep gulp. The day had been long and tiresome; filled with ceremony, meetings with Stefan and Elijah and audiences with a number of northern lords.

But at least now, Elena was out of sight and tucked in the crypt beneath his feet.

Wine and ale had been faithful companions over the past week when not going about his daily routine. His wife along with the new Southern members of his household were understandably deep in mourning while he struggled against the urge to celebrate that the Fleming line was as close to done as it was going to get. The North had now survived all of its enemies and come out victorious. It was worthy of celebration and yet totally indelicate to the only potential ally that truly mattered now:

His wife.

In deference to her grief, he'd made a point to keep his distance rather than ply her with disingenuousness and instead used whatever free time he had to deepen his knowledge of his bride.

She was a model of understatement, based on what he learned from Stefan. She was one to speak modestly of her seat on Elena's council while neglecting to mention that she sat as First Minister in all but name. She was more than a diplomat, more than an advisor…She was the craftsman of Elena's plans. The hands that set about her will.

He discreetly observed her as the days passed—this stranger who was now the lady of his house. Her sadness was palpable, yet she carried it with a graceful stoicism that caused Rebekah rail at him constantly for his lack of attention to her.

" _She's your wife, Nik! And where are you; hold up here when you should be a comfort to her."_

" _And I'm doing her a better courtesy for it," Klaus answered smoothly. "If she's such a paragon of wit and intellect, then I suspect she's keen enough to detect sympathies insincerely offered. Elena Fleming is dead. The line of shadows is broken and the North stands empowered and victorious. I've half a mind to run naked through the halls…but out of respect for my wife…"_

 _Rebekah rolled her eyes at his smugness. "That's not the point. The end of the infernal replica is a blessing. Nevertheless, her heir is now your wife and you swore yourself to her before gods and men."_

" _Since when did you become so bloody pious?"_

" _Since the Keeper of Antioch is now living in our home!" Rebekah hissed. "As she goes, so goes the land so it is in all of our best interests that she feels comforted, especially now. If not out of courtesy then out of sheer self-preservation."_

" _You worry too much," Klaus countered with a wave. "I suspect the little queen cares even less about my courtesies than I do. In fact, if there is anything causing her distress, it's likely her worry that we offed her predecessor."_

He'd let the statement land between them with a thud for it couldn't be ignored. Elena's death while warmly welcomed, now stood as terribly inconvenient given the timing. So suddenly and neatly done, her death would appear nothing but suspicious despite the high priest's insistence on its virtue.

If the whispers were true, then the newest member of House Mikaelson was now fated for the life of a hostage. Kept alive for her connection to Antioch and her ability to bear Klaus' heirs.

They weren't true, unfortunately. Elena's death had been as much of a surprise to him as to anyone and he immediately sniffed out the problems that would arise from it. The peace between House Mikaelson and House Fleming was tenuous at best, needing naught but a strong wind to break it apart and the Southern lords still at court waited with baited breath for their queen to sound some form of alarm.

She hadn't. In fact, she gave no indication as to where mind landed on the issue. When not attended by Lady Caroline, she kept her own counsel, creeping from their bed in the wee hours of the morning and disappearing into her apartments. When she moved about the castle, it was within a thicket of knights brought with her—a bruising band of men that kept in step with her every move—stopping only to speak to one steward or another or to smile gratefully and at some shy attempt to lift her spirits.

If her days during The Sorrow weren't spent in prayer and meditation with the priests, then she was taking a personal hand in the arrangement of Elena's crossing over rites.

Still, it seemed the whole of Antioch waited for her to speak on the matter one way or another. On her say so, they would either stay their hands and observe the form peace would take with caution; or, they would amass whatever forces necessary to wrest Bonnie from his grasp and return her South.

Taking any chance at peace right along with her.

It irritated to no end having so much rest on one person—and a stranger at that. The idea of his obligation to her felt more foreign than the woman herself—but not so foreign that he wouldn't burn and bloody his way across Antioch to reclaim her should anyone make such an attempt. Whether either of them liked it or not, she was of House Mikealson now and for anyone to lay hand on her for any reason…

His grip tightened on his goblet as he drained it again. Pleasantries and policies, suspicions and rumor...they were all in ample supply waiting for some to set it all afire, burning them all.

 _And then there was the matter of her scent…_

As if on cue, the very same fragrance wafted into the room with the opening of a door, heralding her approach.

Her scent was by no means unpleasant; a heady mixture that brought to mind memories of moist earth, elderflowers, burning embers and honey. It only seemed to grow stronger with each morning, not in an effort to overwhelm but rather in pursuit of permanence. As if her scent had been made fabric that she wound more tightly around herself. It pulled at his senses when she was near and made him long for a spring that was many months away.

It also spoke to her nature and raised suspicions of his own.

Bonnie appeared as she had all week: Fingers unadorned and lacking the finery of her station as was tradition during The Sorrow. Bare feet peeked out from below the black linen night dress that hung from her shoulders. Her hair was unbound and framed a face scrubbed clean and glowing—sadness seeming a mere accessory to her loveliness.

She stepped further into the bedchamber and drew closer to him with some hesitance. Curious as to her intent, he moved aside as she approached and poured himself another cup.

The goblet was nearly to his lips when delicate fingers reached out and lifted it from his grasp. He watched bemused as she brought it to her lips and slowly drank until empty.

"My lord," she said finally, her voice low. "I feel we should talk." She picked up the decanter and moved past him and toward the pair of high-backed chairs that sat before the large fireplace. His eyes followed her as she settled in one and poured the goblet full again.

She looked up expectantly when he failed to join her at the fire, her eyes gently mocking his own hesitance until he finally came to sit across from her and accepted the goblet she passed.

Klaus leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows on his knees; content to wait while Bonnie gathered her thoughts and gazed into the fire.

"I wanted to express my gratitude for your courtesy during such a difficult time," she said finally. "Elena was neither your kinswoman nor your friend—"

"You are a member of this house now," Klaus cut in with a wave of his hand. "That she meant something to you is reason enough for respect. Your gratitude is unnecessary." He emptied the goblet as passed it to her.

"Nevertheless, you have it," Bonnie replied as she accepted the goblet and poured another cupful.

Firelight highlighted her profile when her gaze returned to the flames; already seeming to drift back into her own thoughts.

"Was there something else?" Klaus pressed once the sound of her voice was missed. This was the most interaction they'd had since the morning of Elena's death and he was more than curious as to what spurned it.

"Yes," she answered carefully. "Given his role as First Minister, I've attempted to speak to Stefan several times only to conclude that he is determined to spare me."

"Spare you?" Klaus asked with interest. "From what?"

"From castle intrigue, of course," Bonnie replied smoothly. "Has our court not been abuzz in the wake of my predecessor's death?"

"Indeed. Everyone waits with baited breath for the Keeper of Antioch cry fair or foul on the matter," he answered, returning the goblet to her.

Bonnie drank deeply before her eyes returned to him. He lounged rather rudely in his chair now; the length of his body slouched; one leg stretched out before him while the rested a hand on his knee. He wore linen trousers as black as her own garment; the matching tunic abandoned as usual in favor of a fur-lined robe of black brocade that hung open and pooled at his feet. The wild mass of curls that crowned him fell into hidden eyes. He was sharpness and brutality wrapped in a king's finery. Angular bones and features wrapped in just enough meat and muscle to cause definitive harm in whatever way pleased him.

His bare chest rose and fell evenly and sent her eyes darting back towards the fire.

"In fact," he continued, "Lords Borden and Wellstone are leading the charge in that regard. Stefan worries their voices will grow loud enough to form a chorus."

"He should be worried," Bonnie agreed. "Willem and Ben are both well respected throughout the South. Elena is dead and I am bound to you by marriage. They don't trust you and there is reason in their suspicions." She finished her cup and poured another before passing it to him.

"Do you share them?" Klaus asked, uncertain of what he wanted her answer to be as she considered his question.

"I did," Bonnie admitted. "Such treachery isn't beneath you -"

"No, it isn't," he smiled wryly into this goblet.

"—but fact ultimately overruled suspicion."

"And when did that turn of events occur?" He asked, intrigued.

"Two hours ago," Bonnie replied with a grin that called attention to her youth. It warmed her face and make her look every bit like one of the shy maidens he'd encounter in his travels and make blush until they were purple before drawing them into his bed and making enemies of their fathers.

Klaus swirled the contents of the goblet, "What changed your mind?"

"Elena," Bonnie sighed sadly. "She left behind a letter and I finally marshalled the courage to read it." Her friend had never been one for sentimentality, but there was an urgency in her writing; as if she'd only just realized how little time was left to say all that needed to be said. A disordered collection of regrets, advice, prayers and warnings—some easily understood, while others…

"It is as the High Priest said," she confirmed. Apologies for not speaking of what was to come were practically the first words in her frantic missive. "Once my link to Antioch created, hers withered on the vine."

Klaus nodded before taking a drink, "While a brief ally, she was a far more formidable enemy." If there was any respect to be given, he would give her that at least.

"She thought the same of you," Bonnie supplied. "Which is why she denied me every time I wanted to come North to negotiate peace."

"Did she?" Klaus echoed with interest. "And why is that?"

"She would not risk having my head sent back to her in a basket as you'd done with our previous envoys."

"Oh, I don't know…If you'd ridden up to my gates under a banner of peace, I think beheading you would be the very last thing on my mind," he replied, taking note the blush that deepened her cheeks in the firelight.

"Still," Bonnie continued, taking the goblet from his hands to refill. "She would not weigh my life against your disposition."

"And now I am your husband," Klaus intoned ruefully.

"And now you are my husband, she echoed, taking a sip.

They sat in an oddly comfortable silence for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts.

"Despite whatever reservations we might have about one another," Bonnie began, "tomorrow we must present a united front for the sake of _our_ people. I propose we air whatever concerns now in order to begin anew at sunrise."

"How novel," Klaus replied dryly.

"Yes, I'm sure communication _is_ a novel idea to a Northerner," Bonnie smirked.

"As is honor to a Southerner," Klaus snapped back with a chuckle that grew to a grin when Bonnie feigned being struck by a blow.

"You wound me," she complained. "Might as well finish me off with your question then."

"Will you answer it?"

"Depends on the question," was her coy reply.

"How much do you know about my curse?" Klaus asked.

Bonnie blinked owlishly, "That isn't the question, is it?" She asked, unable to hide her disappointment.

"No."

Bonnies sighed in relief, "Good…well information on the subject has been limited for obvious reasons, but I know that a blood curse was placed on a wilding clan several centuries ago resulting in their descendant's ability to transform into wolves at every full moon. While viewed as an affliction, it does provide advantages in the form of enhanced abilities such as strength, speed—I would assume this includes the senses—"

"Stop right there," Klaus cut in, reaching for the goblet as she rattled off her facts with a perfunctory zeal that reminded him of Elijah.

"It is all that you have said; and a great deal more." He leaned forward again to rest his elbows on his knees as he studied her. He found he rather liked the directness of her gaze. It implied an attention to detail more than anything; that she was undivided in taking in a moment.

And she would most certainly want to pay very close attention to this moment.

"My question is with regard to my senses…one born of belonging to the worlds of both man and beast."

"I'm intrigued," Bonnie replied, the timbre of his voice warming her as much as the wine.

"As am I. You see for my kind, everything whittles down to the essentials. Sights, sounds—scents especially. It's what we use to _name_ a thing," Klaus explained, impressed that her gaze never wavered though her heart skipped several beats as instinct began to suspect his meaning.

An icy finger of dread began to trace its way up Bonnie's spine but she gave no indication.

"Age…sex…diet…it all varies from one to the next," he went on as casually as if he were speaking of the weather. "But deep down, hidden in the lower notes of that which fills the air long before you do, is the truth: man carries the scent of man and beasts carry the scent of beasts." He closed his eyes and smiled as her heartbeat broke into gallop.

"And yet the scent of my wife belongs to neither house…"

Bonnie continued to watch him, her expression unreadable, composure unbroken. To do otherwise would only validate his implication as she waited for him to land on his inevitable point.

"So, my question for you is this: _Who are you_?" His eyes dared her to answer him truly while he silently hoped she'd lie. He'd already begun to sniff her out. It was only a matter of time before he honed in on her true identity and the pursuit of it already proved promising.

 _He can sense my magic_ , she growled to herself. He may not know what it is having never encountered it, but that he'd caught the scent was certain. It was what she'd feared from the moment Elena spoke of marriage. Disappearing into the world of men had become second nature to her over the years; the chance meeting of another with preternatural abilities—let alone a witch—few and far between.

To marry one was to court discovery and if her suspicions held, she'd gone and married the very last person who should ever know the truth. There was design in it. Of that she was also certain.

"Will you answer?" Klaus prodded gently, awaiting her response with interest.

Bonnie smiled warmly in reply, "My dear husband, I am as I have been from the day I arrived; your queen and loyal wife." Her voice held a slight tone of reproach at the notion that she could be anything otherwise.

" _Excellent_ ," Klaus purred, his eyes dancing as he sat back in his chair.

"I'm happy to have satisfied your curiosity," Bonnie answered wryly.

"Then you must now let me do the same," Klaus pointed out when Bonnie rose to prod the fire with a poker. "I eagerly await your question, my lady."

Bonnie set the poker aside once the fire was stoked to her liking. But rather than reclaim her seat, she moved closer to where her husband sat and crouching low; her posture compelling him to lean towards her as if to receive a secret.

"It occurs to me," she began softly. "That things have come to pass rather quickly. In little more than a month Elena sued for peace, the gods named me Keeper, we were wed and now she is dead. With great expediency, a woman who'd refused every attempt prior in fear of my life, has delivered me part and parcel unto both the North and you. Why? Why now?"

"Is that your question?" Klaus asked, his eyes beginning to narrow even further than they did naturally.

"In part," Bonnie replied with a finger wave. "For as Keeper, I believe that I have been placed here in this moment in order to act in the interest of the land. But as someone who's dedicated their life to question and study and who holds critical thought dear…I have to wonder why such action would be necessary?"

"The question?" Klaus guessed again as he peered down at her. Her eyes were luminous and full of knowing and he knew with absolute certainty that she would make a more formidable adversary than either Elena or Katherine if she was of a mind. She would also make a more formidable ally as well.

"Again, in part," Bonnie explained, breaking her gaze as she rose to her feet. "Because now I have to consider you, my lord."

"Niklaus Mikaelson," she stated as she moved slowly about the space between their seats, her hand punctuating every inflection. "You with your cursed blood and your legendary need to thumb your nose at the gods now find yourself wedded to their emissary. One of the most important religious figures of the faith is now the lady of your house."

"The gods are nothing if not petty," Klaus murmured.

"It occurs to me, that all of this has come to pass in direct response to actions you have either already taken mean to take at some future date. Actions of which perhaps even Stefan is unaware. For while you may be blameless with regard to Elena's death, simple common sense _will not_ permit to accept that your motives throughout all of this are in any way noble."

"That's fair," Klaus offered smugly.

"Thank you," Bonnie replied before finally taking her seat. She reclaimed the goblet and emptied the remains of the pitcher into it before drinking deeply.

"Given all of that," she continued, passing the goblet. "And taking into account that I've been sent here to either stop you and help you…it appears my question is equally as simple. So simple in fact, that it's been asked by every wife everywhere since the dawn of time." She folded her hands in her lap and eyed him squarely.

" _What is my husband up to_?"

Her tone was like but the earnestness of her question weighed heavily in her gaze, while his own remained unreadable; his eyes seeming more like two sharp blades lying in wait before slicing to ribbons those foolish enough to be caught in them.

" _What indeed_?" He replied impishly as he emptied the goblet and mused inwardly on her cleverness.

She was sharp there was no doubt.

Which meant he would need to be much sharper.

A/N: Yes I know it's been a while (a long fucking while) and I can only charge it to work, non-fanfic related writing and an existential crisis regarding my Klonnie muse as this update (and the one I'm currently proofreading and hope to post later tonight) when the SEVERAL rewrites. I won't bore you with the details (Anastasia-G already hears a enough of those from me lol) so long story short, I originally intended this fic to be short and fluffy (like me!) and despite my best effort to stick to that plan, these characters clearly have something else in mind and wouldn't get off my neck until I got with their program. So this is me, getting with their program. Looking to hearing what you all think. And before anyone asks, yes, an update for Time Served will be posting soon as well.

Cheers!


	3. Kings and Queens

**Kings and Queens**

Lord Stefan Salvatore descended the stairs of the Minister's Tower before dawn. The tower became his permanent residence at Dragon's Nest on the day he was named First Minister and Rebekah was already hard at work re-appointing the rooms it contained to suit her after they married.

Marriage.

 _If recent examples were any indication…_

Alright; that wasn't fair. He and Rebekah were a love match where Klaus and Bonnie were… _not_. He and Rebekah had known each other since they were children; Klaus and Bonnie met and married a week ago. He and Rebekah were so certain of their life together that they enjoyed their wedding night well before they were even betrothed whereas Klaus and Bonnie…

He continued along the stone walkways of the castle unnoticed before descending into the lower levels of the ancient compound.

When he reached the dungeons, he found a guard in Mikaelson armor waiting for him.

"They've all been gathered, my lord," the guard said, plucking a lit torch from its place on a nearby wall.

Stefan nodded and followed his escort toward the dungeons. The dank cells were relatively empty save for one which currently held a few dozen souls. The guard held the cell door open and he entered, taking in the alarmed faces of those gathered.

Today, the royal couple would dispense with their mourning garb and begin their duties in earnest. The customary exchange of wedding gifts between them would take place later that morning followed by an afternoon touring the countryside courtesy of Klaus. The people of Antioch would need to see their new king and queen together if they were to reassure the stability of the kingdom after so much upheaval.

"Are we under arrest?" Lady Caroline asked, raising her voice above the din of bewilderment.

When the cell door closed behind him, Stefan stood before thirty members of a staff nearly four times that amount. High and lowborn alike stood shoulder to shoulder in the dimly lit space.

"Far from it," Stefan assured as he raised his hands. "I apologize for the location, but, given the delicacy of the matter, the utmost discretion is required."

Once everyone was settled and silent, Stefan sighed deeply and prepared for what would be the oddest discussion he'd had since becoming First Minister.

"I'll get right to it since there's no way to say this except to simply say it," Stefan began as he looked over the group of chambermaids, pageboys, ladies-in-waiting, squires…Their occupations and proximity to their lieges they provided, gave each one more detailed knowledge about the king and queen's personal affairs than even the preceptor possessed.

"The king has not bedded the queen," he announced, taking note of the lack of surprise at his statement and confirming his suspicion. "And everyone assembled here is in a position to have discerned that information for themselves."

Bedchamber business should be private by rights, but with an uneasy peace and a royal death viewed with suspicion, the security of realm required its king and queen to be both of one accord and—more importantly— _breeding_.

Aiden raised his hand hesitantly before he spoke, "Well, why ain't he done it? The queen is quite fit."

"We're all heading into winter and she already looks like spring, that one," said another.

"He certainly bedded Lady Martel often enough."

"Maybe the _king's_ not the problem, maybe it's the _queen_."

"You think she won't have him…you know, because of the b-word?"

"A foreigner in the North turning their nose up at a bastard? Pfffft!"

"Alright maybe it's not the b-word…maybe it's the w-word?"

"Ooooh, might be right at that…"

Stefan pinched the bridge of his nose as more chatter filled the air.

"It is not our place to speculate about the goings on between a husband and wife," he said finally, his hand raised for quiet. "However, we should remain sensitive to the fact this was not a love match, but a political one; and that there will likely be obstacles unique to their situation that they will have to maneuver. The king _will_ bed the queen in due time. What I require from you all now, is silence on the matter."

He scanned each face again and made certain his tone relayed the seriousness of the matter.

"We are at an unprecedented time in the history of this kingdom," he continued. "The North and South are wed. Our king is a bastard Wildling with a wolf curse and our queen is a foreign Keeper who once wore the collar of a slave. All eyes both within and without are fixed on Antioch in this moment and our enemies are hungry for even the slightest detail to exploit. Therefore, if the state of our lieges' marital bed gets out, it will be because someone _in here_ spoke of it. Should that happen, this cell-and several more just like it-will become the permanent accommodations for both the culprit _and all of you_ , is that understood?"

Tyler waved a gloved hand in the air. "I think I can speak for everyone when I say that no one will hear anything from us," he said to nods of agreement. "Nor do I have any doubt that the king will bed the queen, good and proper." he added.

"Thank you. That's very good to hear," Stefan replied awkwardly, eager to end this and seek out the warmth of Rebekah's bed for another hour or so.

"That being said," the young knight continued. "Where are you on perhaps placing markers on _when_ that bedding might happen? Just amongst us?"

The words were barely out of the young knight's mouth before the cell erupted again into chatter; all debating back and forth on betting terms, bidding and speculations on when the royal deed would be done.

Stefan almost shouted a refusal before thinking better of it. If nothing else this small entertainment would aid in unifying them in their silence.

"Fine," he sighed and shrugged. "I've got twenty markers he beds her before the month is out."

 **BKBKBKBK**

Klaus sat as servants laid his morning meal before him.

Bonnie was out of bed and scurrying for her apartments before dawn as usual; the quietly sporadic shuffling that had been her routine the past several days, replaced with a flurry of activity as her handmaids prepared for the morning's ceremony.

He was curious as to how she would respond after last night. Would she retreat and reassess? Or would she continue to press forward with whatever plans she may have? He knew she kept a secret—one that no one, save Elena, likely knew. One they both must have gone through great pains to keep hidden.

He thought back to his meeting with Elena in Mystic Falls and how adamant she'd been during their negotiations.

" _Your heir?" Klaus asked, bringing his goblet to his lips. "You just said you're barren."_

" _Yes, which is why I'm formally adopting my chief advisor into House Fleming and naming her as my heir," Elena replied._

" _This would be Bonnie, yes?" Klaus asked. He'd heard the name from Stefan numerous times. She was foreign and carried no family name with her from across the seas who spoke with the queen's voice in all matters. In fact, he'd been surprised not to find her at this negotiation._

" _You want to put a foreigner who once wore the collar on the throne?"_

" _Yes, that's exactly what I intend to do," Elena replied matter-of-factly._

" _And you expect me to go along with this why…because her pedigree is just as fraught as mine?" Rallying the North to him despite his illegitimacy and his curse hadn't been easy and rivers of blood flowed in the offing. To add a wife not born of Antioch and who once held station lower than a servant…_

" _On the contrary, wolf," Elena began, her eyes narrow. "To say that you are beneath her would be an understatement bordering on the obscene. Because if circumstances weren't what they are, I would chew off my own tongue before marrying Bonnie to the likes of you; and my concern for her wellbeing is rivaled only by my concern for my kingdom, so I don't give a damn what she used to wear round her neck or from what land she hails, she is far too good for your mangy hide."_

 _Fucking Keepers…_

 _Were those words to have come from anyone else in the entirety of the world and he'd be taking a bite out of their hearts' seconds later. But the Fleming bitch's link made her safety a matter of self-preservation and left him to grind his teeth painfully rather than rip her throat out and shake her until her bones broke._

" _Then why give her to me?" He asked tightly._

" _A union between our houses will unite Antioch in a way that nothing else can, while also ensuring that any offspring will be the inheritors of both," Elena replied._

" _Indeed…but why else?" Klaus demanded, unconvinced._

 _She was quiet for a moment; weighing her words. "I have no illusions about who and what you are, Mikaelson as the veracity of your exploits is well documented. But within that documentation lies the fact that you protect those within your keeping with the same veracity. When Bonnie assumes the mantle of Keeper she will need that far more than any queensguard."_

" _And you would forfeit her happiness for her security?"_

" _You will not make Bonnie unhappy," Elena replied and reached for a fig._

" _There are a number of women who would beg to differ," Klaus grinned, wickedly._

" _And I've no doubt each would offer compelling argument," she responded tersely. "Nevertheless, I'm confident the thought of her unhappiness will become as distasteful to you as it is to me. You're going to want her, Mikaelson and you'd be a fool not to."_

He'd thought she'd oversold the issue back then but now…

Fear of Bonnie's head winding up in a basket wasn't the only reason Elena forbade her coming North to sue for peace. He was certain that the queen also forbade it in fear that that he would simply claim her for his own; confine her to the very apartments she now possessed and hold her there until she bent to his will. And she would have been right.

Now he was married to her and despite Stefan's certainty that Klaus and she could rule together on one accord, he was not of the same opinion.

How could he be? A biddable and uncomplicated bride would have better suited his aims. Instead the woman now by his side kept secrets and plans of her own and also had a keen enough mind to not only discover his, but foil them entirely upon that discovery.

Bonnie said she believed she'd been placed here to either stop him or help him. Not only did he agree with her assessment, but he was now of the mind that whatever truth lie behind that scent of hers connected to why the gods chose her as Keeper.

Given what he knew of her, he never considered winning her to his cause a possibility, but what if it were possible? Could she be persuaded to aid him in his endeavor despite the risks involved?

 _He would need to speak to Kol on the matter..._

The sound of a throat clearing, interrupted his thoughts. A knight stationed at the door informed him of his visitor's arrival before the red-haired woman was ushered inside.

"I must admit..." She began, once the door closed behind her. "I didn't expect to be summoned after only one week, but I'm nonetheless gratified that my presence has been missed."

Lady Aurora Martel glided away from the door towards his place at the table; the fullness of her bosom tauntingly level with his eyes as she slowly dropped into a curtsey.

The eldest daughter of House Martel had been his lover for nearly three years. Both mercenary enough to cut down potential rivals for his attention and charming enough to keep it, she'd proven herself to be not only a vigorous bedmate, but also an instrument of torture to wield against his family whenever proper sport was unavailable.

But, as he'd told Damon, his interest had begun to wane, through no fault of her own. She'd been positioning herself for marriage from the beginning and despite his repeated warnings to abandon such pursuits, her mind was still quite fixed on the notion.

"Aurora...you're looking well," Klaus replied as he leaned back in his chair.

"And you're looking bored, your grace," she teased. "Has married life truly been so dreadful?"

"Actually no, you've barely been missed," he shot back drolly. She became Klaus' mistress shortly after he'd beaten her former lover to death with his bare hands. Lucien Cassel was vile by even the most depraved standards and had declared himself the only trueborn noble fit to wrest the North from Katherine's hands. A laughable claim given it was widely known that his family worked in secret with the Mad Queen for years.

"Then why am I here?" Aurora asked, her breath tickling his ear.

"I have news which concerns you and, given our history, I felt it should come from me." He motioned for her to sit before he continued.

"As you know, Damon Salvatore will be travelling south to assume governorship of Mystic Falls as part of our transition-"

"I can't for the life of me understand why you would give such a task to that fool," Aurora muttered.

"-And you will be joining him...as his wife." He nearly laughed at the dumbfounded look that bloomed across her face.

"His... _what_?" She hissed.

"His wife," Klaus repeated. "Lady of his house...eventual mother of his children...so forth and so on..." He reached out to pluck several strips of bacon from a serving tray when she bounded to her feet and slammed both hands on the table.

"Why?" She demanded.

"Damon needs a wife; you need a husband."

"I _had_ you, Klaus," Aurora gritted out, spearing him with her gaze.

"I am _not_ your husband," Klaus replied, evenly.

" _You could have been!_ " Aurora hissed. "You _should_ have been!" Anger rolled off of her in waves as her mind worked furiously to find a way out. _To end up married to a smarmy little pissant like Damon Salvatore and shipped down to Mystic Fucking Falls when she'd had a king firmly seated between her thighs less than a month ago?!_

"Aurora we've been over this-"

"I have been your most loyal subject in every way," she protested. "I don't need a husband to continue to be so. From the moment you killed Lucien, my place has been at your side. Encouraging you, supporting your ambitions and celebrating your victories. I see no reason why that should change."

That had been an overstatement at best, he knew. She certainly celebrated the victories and relished the spoils that came with them, but she cared not a whit about his ambitions outside of how they might benefit her position. She was hungry for the feel of a crown upon her head, but he had no doubt is his mind that should such a thing come to pass, Aurora had the makings of a queen mad enough to rival even Katherine.

Klaus chewed his bacon thoughtfully, "You don't?" Lucien Cassel's head had barely turned to pulp beneath his fists before Aurora presented herself for his pleasure; never to be thought of again. It was part of her charm he supposed. She was petty and cruel and she embraced those parts of herself with no shame; believing power to be the only true shield from consequence.

 _So very much like Esther..._

" _No, I don't_. I don't care that Elena Fleming's little lackey is yours by law. The North is no place for the likes of her. She'll likely wind up back in Mystic Falls within a month; your life together relegated to formal occasions and visits to put heirs in her belly...and that's _only_ if she hasn't managed to supplant you first. _You know this_."

"What I know," Klaus said with an edge in his voice that surprised even him. "Is that she is now your queen and my wife. _Her_ place is by my side and nowhere else." He didn't trust the little mystery he married as far as he could throw her, but after last night he was at least certain that-unlike Aurora-Bonnie was no Esther.

And he was no Mikael.

 _Perhaps I should have left this to her father after all_ , he mused to himself as Aurora continued to thunder on about why wedding Damon was a mistake. He was to join Bonnie in the Hall of Heralds soon for the formal exchange of royal wedding gifts and tending to his disgruntled former mistress proved more tiresome than expected.

"Enough, Aurora," he announced, silencing her tirade and halting her furious pacing.

"An agreement has been signed between Houses Salvatore and Martel. You are to accompany your father back to Lynwood to oversee the dowry and plan a wedding worthy of royal attendance. The matter is settled."

"The matter isn't _settled_ by half—"

" _It's settled_ ," he repeated, his tone brooking no argument. "If you're compelled to discuss it further, then I suggest you do so with your _father_ …not your _king_." He returned his attention to the serving trays before him and began heaping spoonfuls onto his plate, dismissing her.

She would lash out, he knew. It was a matter of pride that she avenged every slight, real or perceived. The offender being her king would make no difference.

 _A mistress with a grudge and a wife with a secret…cursed in more ways than one, obviously._

 **BKBKBKBKBK**

"Have you spoken to Aurora?" Stefan murmured in question after his bowed in greeting.

"Yes," Klaus groaned; his voice equally low. "It went as you'd expect: spitting fire, silent vows of retaliation. You'd think I'd arranged her a marriage with the court jester instead of the most eligible bachelor in the North."

They waited outside the Hall of Heralds for Bonnie to arrive and the procession to begin.

"You should have ended long ago," Stefan chided yet again. "She's likely to slit Damon's throat on the wedding night."

"Nonsense; she cares too much for her own neck to ever go that far. Once she takes up residence in Mystic Falls and sees the kind of power Damon will wield and the kind of independence she'll have, she'll calm down and set about ripping the wings off of the ladies of the south." Klaus assured.

"And what about the queen?" Stefan demanded, unconvinced. "Yes, Aurora will be leaving with her father in a matter of days, but that doesn't mean she can't lob a flaming pile of shit all the way from Lynwood and have it land at your wife's feet."

"What's landing at my feet?" Bonnie asked, stepping into view; Caroline and a coterie of handmaidens and knights flanking her as she approached.

"The hearts of a people eager to see you in brighter spirits, your grace," Stefan answered smoothly with a bow and made note of the way Klaus straightened at her arrival.

She wore an overrobe of forest green that played with the color of her eyes; lined in ermine and fitted at her waist. Each step revealed a skirt burgundy in color underneath while the garment itself was held together by fastens bearing the direwolf of House Mikaelson in silver; a signet ring that matched his own perched on her right forefinger

"Well I certainly hope they haven't given me their hearts prematurely as I should like to win them," Bonnie replied with a demure smile before turning her gaze to Klaus.

He presented a striking picture in his leather breeches and a deep blue velvet tunic that made his limbs appear even longer. An ornate chain of silver attached at each shoulder draped across his chest bearing the sigil of their house at its center while his mane of curls threatened to rebel against whatever order his manservant's brush had achieved.

He smiled as she drew closer and she marveled at how that one action transformed a face that delighted in its own severity into one that spoke of both boyish mischief and a warmth that brightened her own.

"I see my lady has chosen to blind us all with her beauty; how cruel she is," Klaus said, taking her hand in his. Her mass of chocolate tresses was drawn up into an artful chignon held together by a comb bearing the sparrow of House Fleming and exposed the length of neck and the pulse that fluttered at her throat.

"And I see that my lord is far less fearsome when he smiles," Bonnie replied as Klaus pressed his lips to her hand.

"Then you've discovered the reason I rarely do," Klaus returned, his voice a soft rumble as his lips lingered on her knuckles. The warmth of his breath tickled her skin in a way that made her throat suddenly dry. He was suddenly too close; his head bowed unnecessarily towards her; a lock of his hair having finally found freedom, fell forward onto his brow and brushed against her own.

"Be that as it may, I shall pray to see it more often," she replied when he straightened. "A man should only be fearsome _for_ his wife; never _to_ his wife. Particularly when the man in question transforms into a wolf once a month."

"Then what of a wolf who merely pretends at being a man occasion?" Klaus countered, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm.

"Is that what you are?" Bonnie asked. "Then perhaps I've incorrectly chosen my gift to you. Caroline, be dear and go to the kitchens. Tell them to hold back one of the boars from the roasting, tie a ribbon round it and bring it here immediately," she instructed.

"Your grace?" Caroline asked, stepping forward, confusion writ over her face.

"Ignore her, Lady Caroline," Klaus called out, his gaze fixed on Bonnie. "Your mistress attempts to test me."

Bonnie's eyes widened in surprise, "Oh, you think _this_ is the test?" she scoffed.

The doors to the hall opened before Klaus could offer a retort.

Stefan watched their exchange with an expression akin to disbelief on his face as king and queen proceeded arm in arm into the Hall.

"Lord Minister," Caroline asked; her hand on his shoulder gaining his attention. "Is something the matter?"

"Surprisingly, no…" Stefan answered.

There were very few able to say with confidence that they truly knew Klaus Mikaelson.

Few meaning his siblings and himself. The man was notoriously difficult to be around, suspicious and distrustful of almost everyone, his moods changed with blinding speed and he was the owner of the very nebulous opinion that few were worth the time and effort of becoming acquaintances let alone friends.

And yet…

" _He likes her_ ," Stefan realized with wonder.

 **#**

Bonnie scanned the assembly as she and Klaus took their seats on the dais. Both levels of the hall were filled with attendants as Stefan and Elijah stood with the high priest and waited for the gallery to settle. After a brief prayer of thanksgiving from the high priest and less than brief history of royal gifts from Elijah, Stefan signaled for the entertainment to commence.

Mummers and dancers delighted the assembly with performances filled with the playful spirit of one-upsmanship the occasion required..

"I do hope you realize how lucky you are to have married me," Bonnie said, keeping her voice low as the dancers began to display acrobatic feats; each more daring than the last.

"Lucky?" Klaus asked, pleased with the distraction "How so?"

"Well of all the adopted royal heirs in all the world—of which there are 76—you were fortunate enough to marry the one who's an excellent gift giver."

"I think I should be the judge of that," he replied "So what is it?"

"I'm sorry husband, but such things are better seen rather than told," she replied with a grin.

"Very well…though I've no doubt it pales in comparison to what I've selected for you."

Bonnie turned to him in genuine surprise.

"What? Did you think we Northerners can't comprehend the spectacle of a royal gift?"

"Oh no…it's your apparent willingness to follow suit that's cause for surprise."

"It shouldn't be; I can be quite reasonable when things are going my way."

" _Your way_?" Bonnie asked, bemused.

"My war is over; I am king and my queen is the most influential woman in Antioch. How are things going if not my way?" Klaus asked, as they both smiled and clapped where appropriate.

"You've not considered that things are going my way?" Bonnie asked. "After all, the kingdom is at peace; I am queen, and my king is the most feared man in all of Antioch." Her smiled dared him to disagree; her lips a taunting him yet again with the fact that he had yet to truly taste them.

"Then perhaps it would be more correct to say that things are going _our_ way," he amended wryly. "And may they continue to do so."

Bonnie considered him for a moment. The wolf king had a pleasantness about him when he wanted and at the moment, he was as relaxed as she'd ever seen; seemingly content to sit and banter with her with all the lords and ladies of Antioch as witness.

It reminded her of Elena's letter and her assessment of the man:

" _Mikaelson can be terrible, as we both know," she wrote. "But if there is grace for him, it is in his loyalty to his House; to his family. He shouldn't have lifted a finger, let alone started a war if even a fraction of what is said about his Mikael Mikaelson is true. Yet he did it anyway. Not to avenge his father, not to even protect an inheritance; but because the lives of those he does consider family were at Katherine's mercy. It absolves nothing, but it is something to consider._

" _You two are as different as night and day, but if there is one thing you have in common; it is that you've both come to power in the unlikeliest of ways and that neither of you is inclined to give it up. These are things that can be built upon and I write this knowing that you've managed more with less in the past._

" _It goes without saying that winning the people of the North should be your priority. Should your union with Mikaelson prove untenable, you will know what to do and you will need their support should you have to do it."_

"Yes," Bonnie replied finally. "Perhaps they are."

They sat in comfortable silence as the entertainment continued. Bonnie focused on the spectacle before her, clapping and cheering the performances. The gloom of the past week lifted from her shoulders in reprieve.

Her smile came more easily, Klaus observed. In truth she was possessed of a certain charm; a mixture of earnestness and cheek that appealed to him and made him curious as to the things pleasured and riled her. There were layers to her and he was committed to peeling them away as he would an onion.

But, to do that, he would need to move the field of battle.

"My Lord…My Lord… _Klaus_ …" The sound of his name and her hand lying atop his drew his attention.

"I do believe I like the sound of my name on your tongue, you should use it more often. No more of the 'my lord' this and 'husband' that, alright?"

"Might I point out that mine has been equally absent?" For her part, it was in deference to the part of her that still clung to hope that this was all just an elaborate hallucination brought by bad bowl of mushroom soup.

"The more pressing matter," she continued, nodding in Elijah's direction. "Is that your brother is about to call upon us."

Klaus followed her gaze and was irritated to find his brother turned in their direction; polite expectation on his face.

"He's always had the worst timing," Klaus muttered.

 **#**

"Do you think he'll grow fond of her?" Rebekah asked, keeping her voice low as she sat next to Stefan. An army of pages bearing the king's gifts for Bonnie and hers for him took turns down the aisle to present them to each while good-natured heckling and cheers of approval accompanied each delivery.

"If you'd asked me earlier today, I might have said no and simply hoped for a peaceful co-existence. Our new queen is formidable in her own right and will challenge him at every turn—something for which your brother will have very little patience. But clearly something must have happened last night to change that," Stefan replied as pages marched down the aisles bearing the bounty of the North to lay at Bonnie's feet.

"Do you think they...?" Rebekah asked, using every muscle in her lovely face to finish the question.

"Definitely, not," Stefan laughed. "It's the fact that he's been avoiding her like the plague for a week and yet now he seems almost eager to be in her presence. When has Klaus ever been eager to be in anyone's presence?"

"Good point," she nodded. "I hope you're right because I think she may be properly suited for him."

Stefan turned to her with a chuckle, "You do? Why?"

"As you said, she's formidable. She can challenge him and he won't be able to simply dismiss her. Smart enough to outwit him when needed and possessed of enough grace to temper his least appealing traits—Even Freya agrees and so will Kol when he meets with her." Her sister was not in attendance as she was soon to become a Sacred Sister while Kol's delicate constitution made ventures outside his apartments few and far between, especially so close to winter.

It could never be argued that Klaus was a good man nor would he likely ever be; but there was good in him despite her parents' bests efforts to extinguish it. She'd seen it for herself in the way he cared for his family and protected his wildling kin from the nobility.

It was there, and she'd rather see it cultivated instead of poisoned.

"Well then, we just have hope she doesn't despise him," Stefan pointed out.

"True…perhaps I should intervene with her on his behalf," Rebekah murmured mostly to herself.

" _Please don't_ ," Stefan groan. "The only ones who enjoy meddling are the ones doing the meddling,"

"That is completely beside the point," she insisted blithely. "I want to see Nik settled, Stefan. With our marriage in a few weeks and Damon's after that; we're starting our own families. Nik's may have begun under unusually complicated circumstances, but I would rather not see him sabotage it needlessly. Thank the gods Aurora never caught or things would be decidedly worse."

"Don't thank the gods; thank Elijah," Stefan muttered. "He's been having moon drops slipped into her goblet from the start-"

An uproar of applause cut him off as Klaus stepped forward to present his final gift.

"People of Antioch," he called out, the baritone of this voice reverberating throughout the hall.

"After bearing witness to the bounty offered to my queen, one might say that it is enough. That what she now possesses would be worth ten royal dowries and no more is needed… _and I would agree_. For the queen of Antioch's hands are now full to overflowing with tokens of my devotion."

He waited until the murmurs of agreement died down before he continued.

"Which is exactly why this final gift is not for the queen of Antioch." He turned towards Bonnie to find her leaning forward in her seat with interest, unsure of the direction he was headed.

"Yes, I have more than done my duty with regard to the queen of Antioch, but the Keeper of Antioch's hands still lay empty." It was then that Adrian stepped forward bearing a large wooden box.

"As a humble servant of our blessed Lady, there is but one gift I can offer."

The Power Bonnie sensed flowing from the box once opened, seemed to uncoil and stretch itself to within her reach. She tightened her jaw as she pulled hard on the reins of her magic to keep it from spilling out in answer.

She finally rose slowly from her seat and stiffly descended the dais. As she neared Klaus and the box he held, the item inside came into her view as the court gasped in awe.

 _The Heart of Antioch_.

Found nearly one thousand years ago by Amara herself, the massive ruby was believed to be the only magical remnant of its namesake's body. Back then, Amara had taken the jewel and inserted into the heart tree that now dominated their godswood. But once rulership of Antioch moved South after the Schism, the stone dislodged itself from the tree and would not be reseated.

Bonnie reached a hand toward the jewel and half expected the magic within it to clasp it in return. Instead it began to glow from its center; it's light bathing those nearest in scarlet. She wanted to touch it—her magic was desperate to-but she didn't dare; due more to the werewolf watching her closely than the multitude that observed nearby. Unlike them, she felt his gaze upon her razor-sharp; eager to see if such contact would reveal anything.

Instead, she slowly closed the box altogether and nearly sighed in relief when the pull of the relic lessened instantly. She lifted the box from Klaus' hands and held it close to her body.

"You have honored me beyond measure, my lord," she said sincerely. "I shall see it returned to its rightful place and in doing so reaffirm this place as the birthplace of our great kingdom."

The court erupted into applause as she passed the box to the high priest, grateful to put even more distance between herself and the relic for the time being. Before she returned it to the godswood, she would take the opportunity to study it away from watchful eyes.

Klaus moved to ascend the dais and re-take his seat, when he realized Bonnie made no move to follow him.

"Have you forgotten that I still have a final gift to present?" She asked, when he arched a brow in question.

"No, I haven't, but given the magnificence of mine, why bother?" He asked, drawing laughter.

"Indeed, you have gone above and beyond my expectations," she conceded. "And yet still, I believe I can do better," drawing even murmurs of approval at her challenge.

Two of her handmaidens stepped forward and helped her in removing the overrobe she wore to reveal the burgundy gown underneath. The garment was sleeveless, revealing the graceful length of her arms as they hung at her sides waiting for the handmaidens to retreat.

Once they did, she raised them again, to direct the gallery's attention.

"People of Antioch," she called out, quieting the court. "It appears that the king and I share a belief in the return of precious things to their rightful owner."

Klaus took his seat and watched as she moved about the hall, the court leaning in to catch every word.

"I confess that I struggled greatly in deciding what to give; all I know of the North is what I've heard and read. So, I turned to all that I've heard and read for answer."

She nodded discretely towards Caroline and the young woman moved quickly to sit amongst a small band of musicians already lifting their instruments.

"The greatness of the northern lands of Antioch is well known both here and far across the seas. Well known are the mighty men and women who once roamed this land and shaped it from its inception. Well known are the stories of Titan the Bold and Janna the Brave; of Dagon and Meera..." Each name she called was met with raucous approval of from her audience.

"We know them all and each have our favorites that speak to us and show a grace to which we should aspire." she continued. "For me, the woman who speaks to me, harkens back to the Age of Heroes; to the time before Amara when the saviors of this land constantly battled monsters spawned by Antioch's rage. I speak of Jonquil, the young daughter of a blacksmith who found such favor with the gods that they turned to her in one of the land's times great need."

Murmurs of interest went up with the name of the legendary heroine; their eyes fixed on Bonnie's as she moved up the center aisle of the hall towards one of her knights who stood before the massive double door bearing a long rectangular box in his arms.

"We know that once, the people of Antioch were being terrorized by a great basilisk; and that every blade to strike its skin shattered into dust. When no way to vanquish the beast could be found, King Florian prayed to the gods for help and they spoke to Jonquil in answer."

The quiet that fell over the hall was thick with anticipation as she spoke of the young woman who'd been charged by the gods to fashion a sword for her king. She toiled for seven days and seven nights in the making of it; pouring her prayers for victory into each strike of her hammer. Once the weapon had been found pleasing in their eyes, each of the gods blessed it with their power and charged young Jonquil to deliver it to King Florian. Jonquil then named weapon Last Kiss; for its blade would never dull, and any blow from it meant certain death. So powerful was the weapon that the gods warned that the blade's tip never touch the ground for that it would pierce the earth and bring the land to ruin.

By the time she reached the entrance to the hall, she could feel Klaus' eyes boring into the back of her head and paid him no mind and she opened the box her knight held. The Power emanating from the blade was of a different sort but no less powerful than the Heart of Antioch, but it was one she'd become familiar with in preparation for this moment.

She lifted the ancient relic and removed its scabbard before holding the blade aloft for all to see.

 _The gift was perfect_ , Klaus thought to himself as gasps of wonder rose at the sight of it. The people would adore her for its return and he would have a weapon that would prove useful for his plans. But it wasn't until the music began to play and Caroline because to sing the first lines of _The Journey of Jonquil_ that he realized Bonnie had a great deal more in mind.

On cue, Bonnie took the first steps in the traditional dance that accompanied the re-telling of Jonquil's perilous journey to deliver the sword. Southern performances of the dance tended to use dulled replicas of the sword; given the difficult leaps and turns required along with moments where the sword had to be borne on her body without the use of her hands. The North however, believe that any blade used to tell the tale should always be sharp.

Unease roiled in Klaus belly and his chest tightened when he realized what she was about. Caroline's voice guided her through the movements; her steps light and sure as she travelled slowly down the aisle. The blade sliced through the air as she wielded it about her effortlessly; her movements uncommonly graceful as every turn and lunge brought gasps of both awe and fright.

When the music began to speed up and made each step more precarious than the last, he had to resist the urge to stand and demand that she stop at once; each dip and sway threatening to sever a limb.

As she neared the foot of the dais, her hands became a blur; flipping the sword into the air with one hand and catching it by its grip with the other in rapid succession until she sent it into the air high enough for one last spin before she dropped to one knee in front of the dais; catching in one hand with a flourish.

"My king," Bonnie said, breathlessly, reciting Jonquil's words as the music ended and she presented the gift. "By the will of the gods, I have traveled a great distance to deliver the weapon of our salvation into your keeping. May you always wield it in protection of our people and may it ever stand as a symbol of the gods' favor."

Klaus let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as he rose from his seat and descended the dais on legs that seemed made of water. It wasn't until he reached for the sword that he realized his knuckles were bone white from clenching his fists.

He lifted it carefully from her arms with one hand while extending the other towards her; his gaze fixed on her upturned face as she grinned in triumph and relief.

"My lady," he began, reciting Florian's words hoarsely; his throat having gone dry early into her performance. "I humble accept the charge of the gods and offer you my hand in return. For even with a with the god's favor, no king can protect the land without a queen of mettle."

The roar in the Hall of Heralds was deafening as Bonnie threw him a mischievous wink and slid her hand into his and rose to cheers of "Long live the queen!"

Klaus drew her closer and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Well played, Bonnie," he murmured against her skin. "Well played indeed."

 **BKBKBKBK**

Bonnie tried valiantly to keep up with Klaus' long strides while trying to figure out what had put him in such a foul mood so quickly.

As soon as the ceremony ended, she retreated to her apartment to change as Caroline had been informed for the afternoon's activities would involve riding. She changed into a riding outfit and hurried down to the courtyard to meet him; expecting him to be of the spirit he was in the Hall of Heralds.

Instead, Klaus grabbed her hand and practically dragged her across the courtyard and set a quick pace across the grounds towards the stables; his eyes hard and his jaw clenched.

Tired of stumbling after him, she stopped short mid-stride and planted her feet. When the action caused Klaus to jerk to a halt, he whirled around and glared at her.

"Is there a problem?" He demanded.

"As a matter of fact, there is," Bonnie replied. "I am not dressed for running, Klaus."

Klaus caught her meaning and ground his teeth in annoyance. "Forgive me," he bit out. "I'm simply eager for us to be away." He took the hand he held and tucked it into his arm before setting off again at a noticeably slower pace.

He was angry, but there was something almost desperate about it. Like he'd suddenly found himself trapped in a cell he couldn't escape; angry about his confinement, frantic for release and possibly afraid that there would be none. It rolled off him in waves she couldn't ignore.

"Is something amiss?" She asked finally.

"Amiss?" Klaus scoffed. "What could possibly be amiss when my queen decides to risk not only her life but the lives of us all for a moment of political theater?"

"I see," Bonnie replied, nonplussed. "Well that's certainly one way to look at it."

" _You see?_ " he echoed. "Is that all?"

"For now, yes," she answered. Given your current state, I seriously doubt that anything I say on the matter will be heard or understood." Her eyes widened at the very deliberate growl that was his only reply before they continued on in silence.

Admittedly, he seemed a bit stiff after they returned to their seats to conclude the ceremony, but she certainly hadn't expected him to be as thoroughly displeased about it as he now appeared to be. Yes, it had been dangerous, but only moderately so to her mind as she'd practiced it many so times, she was certain she'd be able to do it the dark.

She frowned as the roof of the stables finally came into view and suddenly wished she were back in her apartments instead of dealing with the temper of an unreasonable man.

"You'd better be right, Elena," she thought to herself.

 **#**

Lionel the Master of Horses led them both along the rows of stalls, offering details about the pedigree and training of each mount. In his hands he carried the new saddle that had been one of Klaus' gifts. In addition to the saddle, Klaus declared she would have her pick of the finest horses within the royal stable as her new mount.

Klaus hung back as Bonnie conversed with the horsemaster; his thoughts a clutter in desperate need of sorting. The part of him where reason dwelled, thought she'd been magnificent. She'd been possessed of a grace and strength that breathed new life into centuries-old movements.

But the part of him that howled at the moon and pawed at the earth, could only sense the danger in which she'd placed herself. It snarled in frustration and struggled against reason with each perilous move she made. Even now, it stalked about within him unsettled despite her safety.

He needed a drink.

He needed a fight.

He needed respite between soft thighs. Unfortunately, the thighs that came to mind belonged to the one most committed to testing his patience.

 _She could have been killed_.

And thus, the wolf remained unsettled.

"Have you made your choice, wife?" he demanded more harshly than intended.

Bonnie frowned at his tone but stopped to consider her options, for they all were truly remarkable beasts.

"I believe I shall have—"

The sound of hooves slamming against a stall door cut her off and drew her attention towards a stall at the far end of the row in which they stood.

"Have I not seen all of the mounts available?" Bonnie asked when she turned to Lionel.

"You have, your grace," Lionel replied. "That beast cannot be ridden."

"Why not?" she asked concerned. "Is it injured?"

"No, your grace. In fact, that is the finest bit of horseflesh I've ever seen in my life. But we fear he's going quite mad. My father started his training and the beast took to it quite well, but then he died before moved on to tourney and battle. We tried to pick up where he left off, but the beast won't have anyone. Now he's only put to stud."

Klaus' eyes narrowed as Bonnie moved down the row towards the commotion.

The beast stilled once Bonnie came into view and she could only gasp faintly in surprise.

Despite the dimness of the stall, she could see that Lionel spoke true. The stallion was massive in size at least 24 hands high if she guessed right. A dark mane fell into his eyes and the light that streamed from the rafters of the stable revealed a coat colored more red than brown.

She stepped forward with a hand outstretched when the animal began to strain against the door of the stall as if to reach her; snorting and neighing in earnest.

"Take care, your grace," Lionel warned. "The beast is known to bite."

 _So's the one I'm married to, yet no one's warning me to take care with him_ , she thought as she drew close enough for him to press his muzzle into her palm. She pushed the hair from his face to reveal a pair deep, brown orbs as he began to nuzzle and knicker when she stroked him.

"This one. I will have him." Bonnie announced, wrinkling her nose affectionately as the beast snorted at her.

"Out of the question; the beast is too dangerous for your needs," Klaus answered brusquely and considered the matter closed.

"Have I yet spoken of my needs, Klaus?" Bonnie asked stiffly, continuing to stroke the stallion's mane.

Midnight blue eyes narrowed until they nearly disappeared beneath his brow. "I am your husband; who better than I would not only know your needs, but also how best to fulfill them?"

"If that's true, then surely you know that I need you to keep your word," Bonnie countered. "You said I could have my pick."

"I assumed your choice would be _wise_ ," he scoffed. "A mistake I will not make in the future." Was she insane? Every attempt to mount that blasted horse over the past several months had resulted in more than a few grievous injuries to both trainers and stablemen.

"I will have him and no other," Bonnie replied, unmoved by his insistence.

"That horse is half-mad," he continued to argue, his voice rising. "Even I won't ride him."

"My lord, I will not apologize for being made of sterner stuff."

Lionel turned from the pair to catch the eye of Tyler who waited beside Caroline and several knights and handmaidens near the stable's entrance; discreetly listening to the entire exchange. The look Tyler returned mirrored his own in questioning whether or not they should all vacate the area.

The smirk Caroline struggled to hide advised that they should.

"Out. Everyone. _Now_ ," Klaus bit out, his voice a dreadful roll of thunder daring them to tarry. Lionel set Bonnie's saddle aside and hurried to catch up with the others, closing the doors behind him.

Klaus turned to Bonnie; her face a mask of placid obstinance. She whispered soothing words to the animal before finally moving away to discuss the matter further. "Do have a care for the horses, husband," she practically sneered. "They spook more easily than I do."

Klaus stalked towards her; his lanky gait more prowl than walk, daring her to continue along her contrarian path. He towered over her, nearly folding himself in half to peer down into her defiant little face.

" _Did you just call me a coward_?" He demanded, his voice barely above a whisper and sharp as an icicle.

Bonnie craned her neck until she was able to squarely meet his eyes. If he was intent on being a boor then she would deal with him like one.

"I'm afraid I don't recall that word passing my lips," she answered with feigned confusion.

Klaus sighed in frustration, "I am your husband-"

"Yes, I know; I was there for the ceremony."

"Then surely you remember the part where I vowed to keep you _safe_ and to provide for your needs?"

"I do...which is why I remain perplexed by your refusal," Bonnie replied. "You promised I could have my pick. Given the infancy of our marriage, I _need_ you to keep your word...after all, I did vow to be the flame of truth and honor that lights your way through utter darkness. You must aid _me_ in aiding _you_ , Klaus." Her words dripped venom as her anger rose at being treated like an ignorant fool who suddenly couldn't take care of herself simply because she bore the title of wife.

Klaus ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. Was she truly this impossible? Attacking, feinting and questioning his honor all in equal measure for the sake of a demon-possessed animal that would likely toss her into the nearest tree at the first opportunity.

 _He might actually like to see that_.

"Why him?" He asked finally almost dreading her answer.

"Does it matter? He is the one I want."

"That is not good enough—"

"And neither is your word apparently," she scoffed.

"Tread lightly, Bonnie," he warned as he stalked about restlessly. "You've done enough for one day."

"I will tread where I like, thank you; best you learn that now." she snapped. "I knew what I was doing and have known for several weeks. In fact, if there's to be any concern it should have been for you. I am versed in the handling of a sword of magic whereas you are not. You could have very easily dropped it and ended us all."

"I know how to bear a sword, woman!"

" _So. Do. I._ " she growled, her voice beginning to rise. " _I would not have done it were I not confident in my ability to do it. And I would not claim this horse were I not confident in the fact that he is already mine!"_

Bonnie moved to where Lionel placed her saddle and lifted it into her arms. "I will not yield on this matter, Klaus," she glared at him. "Now are you going to keep your bloody word or not?"

#

Outside, the others milled about as they waited for the king and queen to exit. One of the stable boys stood at the closed stable doors; an ear pressed hard against the wood.

"Do you hear anything, boy?" Lionel demanded.

"No, they're too far away and the horses are starting to make a fuss. If he squinted, he could spy the couple stalking about each other in the space between the doors.

"They're still just talking, but the king looks angry..."

"Nothing new there," Lionel scoffed. "How's she look?"

"Like she don't care the king's angry."

"What's it mean if she gets to keep the horse?" Ser Tyler wondered aloud after a few moments.

"It means the king has gone and married his match and that we should pray for him daily," the horsemaster answered, sagely.

After several moments, the stable boy jumped back when the stable doors were suddenly thrown open. Klaus glared at them all before he walked out, leading his horse behind him. Moments later, the queen emerged leading; the red beast at her heels.

"She got a saddle on that thing?" the stable boy whispered.

"He certainly didn't," Lionel murmured, thinking of the time the king had taken it upon himself to resume the horse's training onto to be sent sailing through the air too many times to count. "That horse hates him as much as he hates it."

Klaus was already mounted by the time she reached him. It wasn't until she politely declined assistance in mounting that he noticed her garment. The simple riding dress was false; the folds of its skirt parting and falling back to reveal the pair of tight leather breeches she wore underneath when she placed her small foot into a stirrup and sprang up into the saddle.

The horse didn't thrash about to try and unseat her as he had so many others, but instead he stamped and shuddered; taking off as if to gallop only to stop short as he adjusted to her presence. Bonnie's hold on the reins was firm but patient as she walked him towards an open pen and gradually worked him into a gallop; speaking words of encouragement in a language Klaus didn't recognize as they repeatedly rounded the pen.

"Seven Hells…she's charmed that horse," Lionel remarked as continued to warm him up for the day's travel. "Is she a trainer?"

"She and Queen Elena lived among my people as children," one of Bonnie's knights offered as the only explanation.

"Come forward," Klaus commanded, still keeping an eye on Bonnie's progress. The knight in question removed his helmet to reveal Ser Luka of Avona, commander of Bonnie's personal guard.

"Why were they living among you?" Klaus asked. The Avona were a nomadic people that travelled in a caravan—a herd-the size of a small city across the grasslands.

"Saltzman wanted my people to fight for Queen Elena, but we do not deal with outsiders. If he wants to speak of war, then first he must join the Herd."

"So that's why you joined up," Klaus nodded in understanding. From what he knew of the horse-worshipping people, their Herd was so large that joining it became a simple matter of bedding down with them when they camped at night and picking up and travelling with them at sunrise. Contributing to the herd's survival by whatever means, prevented expulsion.

"No," Luka replied with a single shake of his head. "They were with us for two years before our leaders agreed to hear him and when they did, he was denied. They did not agree until years later and by then he was long dead."

"Then how—" Klaus returned to his attention to the young woman who now rode her new horse around the pen a final time before she slowed the animal to a walk and began to exit.

"You do not know our queen," Luka said. His tone was neither an accusation, nor an admonishment; he merely stated a fact made clearer with each passing moment.

"What do you think, Luka?" Bonnie asked when she brought the horse to a stop near him.

The young knight removed his gauntlets and passed them along with his helmet to his squire. He approached the animal just as deftly as she had and ran his hands along the beast's body; taking special care with his legs.

"The Great Stallion has blessed you with one sprung from his own loins, my queen," Luka said finally.

"He's fast," Bonnie nodded, beaming. "I'm sure of it." Just in taking the horse around the pen, she could feel the power within his collection of muscles; ready to burst into a run at first command.

It was obvious she was genuinely happy about the horse, Klaus observed. The tightness she held in her face during their argument was gone as smiled down at the animal in delight. But then her gaze drifted towards him and the reminder of who had given it to her and the manner in which it was given, caused that pleasure to reluctantly drain from her and he could only frown at the sight.

"We should postpone today's outing, my lord," Bonnie said, her face a mask of indifference. "I've no doubt this decision will displease you—as have all of my others today—but I believe it best to wait for cooler heads and higher spirits."

She'd hoped that a few rounds in the pen would settle her enough for the remainder of the day, but it hadn't. Instead whatever anger the buffoon she'd married managed to rile had only burned away to reveal the true nature of her agitation:

She was offended. _Highly_.

"There will be no postponement-" Klaus protested.

"That wasn't a request." Bonnie snapped before she turned her horse and headed toward the main gate at a trot. Her knights were already mounted and set off after her as Klaus looked on in astonishment at her abrupt exit.

He'd done nothing but bark and snap at her needlessly and she no longer wished to be in his presence.

Klaus cursed at her retreating figure before he pressed his heels into the sides of his horse and tore off after her; leaving both his attendants and hers in the dust.

"Like I said," Lionel sighed wearily and Caroline and Tyler came to stand beside him as he watched the king race after the queen.

"Pray for him. _Daily_."

A/N: Thanks so much for your lovely reviews! The next update is just about done and should follow in the coming days.


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